


Trained to Sin

by expliciit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 89,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expliciit/pseuds/expliciit
Summary: 'He was a mystery and solving puzzles was a passion of hers.'It's the year 1996 and the wizarding world is on the brink of war. The Order of the Phoenix has assembled, preparing themselves to fight but they're missing something...someone. It was any other day when Hermione Granger was taken from the safety of Hogwarts and brought to Malfoy Manor where she was trained in combat and taught to duel. She was being prepared for treason as when she was considered ready, was going to be dropped onto a battlefield and forced to fight against The Order, standing amongst murderers and aiding everything she was against. She searched for light and comfort, unaware that it had been in front of her the whole time, in an unlikely form of a boy she had once known._________________TW!!! Mentions of suicide, kidnapping.-Yes, there is smut in the book but it's a big slow burn because of the circumstances so be prepared to wait a lil.-all characters are owned by jk Rowling!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione made her way down the vast hallways, smiling to every face she passed- which wasn't many as most students were still in class in which she had been called away from. The walk to mcgonnagals office wasn't far but although she hadn't been walking long, her legs seemed to ache and she let out a sigh of relief when her eyes grazed over a familiar large, dark oak door.

"Miss Granger," the old witch smiled sincerely, opening the heavy door for Hermione and gesturing to a seat on the opposing side of her desk. Hermione tried to put on a smile accompanied with a nod and she nervously took a seat.

"I suppose you want to know why I called for you." Mcgonnagal cautiously sat down, her kind but nervous smile never fading.

"Yes, I was told you wanted to see me." Hermione toyed with her wand, eager to find out what was so important that she was taken out of class and the inside of her lip turned red and sore as she nibbled at it.

The older witch sighed and leaned forward slightly.

"I have noticed how well you have been doing this year and some students are not so fortunate to be able to maintain high grades during... these times." She paused and Hermione frowned while slowly nodding to indicate to carry on.

"Dumbledore and I think that it would be a good idea for you to start tutoring for a while." Hermione sighed, relaxing her sore shoulders that she didn't realise were slightly tensed.

"Just until the students can get back on track and it will also prove as a good distraction for you, considering everything going on."

"Of course." The brunette tilted her head forward and smiled sweetly. She wondered why Mcgonnagal had seemed so cautious and almost regretful to tell her. Hermione was expecting much worse than to requested to become a tutor, anyway, she enjoyed studying - not to mention helping others whenever she could. Mcgonnagal knew that, which worried the witch even more.

"So when do I start?" She carried on, picking up her bag and swinging it lazily over her shoulder. "Tomorrow." Hermione hadn't expected the change to be so sudden. "Seven, after dinner. I'll request a classroom to be left unlocked." Mcgonnagal said, rising from her seat and walking to the door to open it. Hermione rose from her seat, neatly tucking it under the desk after herself. As she reached the door Mcgonnagal spoke again.

"And Hermione , go relax, it wouldn't be much use attending the last 10 minutes of class." Hermione offered the old witch one last smile before leaving the office and heading down towards her dorm.

As she paced down the lengthy corridor, she couldn't help but wonder. She had never thought to ask the professor who it was she would be tutoring. Her mind wondered and she frowned to herself. She wasn't aware of anything that would cause problems for students. Mcgonnagal had said that at least one particular student was struggling under circumstances but Hermione wasn't aware of anything that would distract someone's learning to such an extent they would require a tutor. She wasn't even aware Hogwarts provided extra help, she had certainly never received any. Then again, she had never needed it. She attempted to push her queries to the back of her head. Mcgonnagal was a lot of things but she was most definitely not stupid so Hermione didn't waste anymore time on the matter.

When she arrived back at her dorm, she was met with a constant clatter on the window. Her bag slumped to the crease of her elbow before she dropped it carelessly to the floor She huffed, trudging towards the window before wrenching the curtains open and staring downwards near her window sill. Even after Hermione had clearly acknowledged the tapping, the owl was persistent, retreating its head before swinging it ruthlessly at the glass again. Hermione rolled her eyes, the tendency to pester that most of the owls possessed aggravated her. It was only when she tugged the window open, that the bird paused. It cocked its head considerably to the side before jutting out its neck, attempting to draw her attention to the letter clutched tightly in its beak.

She snatched the piece of parchment from between its beak, almost ripping it due to the force she had used and the birds sudden reluctancy to let her have it. It was like the owl could sense her distaste for it. She slammed the window shut causing the owl to disappear in a squabble of chaotic feathers. She made to sure to listen for the sound of the retreating flap of its wings before pulling the curtains shut and perching on the edge of her bed.

She turned the letter over in her hands, studying it before ripping it open from the top. It opened unevenly and she slid the small slip of paper that was tucked neatly inside, out. She screwed the empty envelope into a ball between her hands, deeming it as useless before discarding it on the floor. She carefully unfolded and straightened it out.

Hermione,

Professor Snape has offered you his classroom with only the request that his equipment stay untouched. I hope all goes as expected tomorrow.

Mcgonnagal.

Hermione furrowed her brows, mcgonnagal's tone seemed almost apologetic even through the letter. She seemed worried. Hermione tensed her jaw for a moment before shoving the piece of parchment deep into her robe pockets.

She loosened her tie while slouching on her bed. She was back before Ginny was and didn't know what to do in her absence. The witch bit her lip lightly, gnawing at the already agitated skin. The dorm was a small octagon shaped room with two beds either side, decorated loyally in her house colours. Her bed sheets were red and partially silky, creasing as it adapted to the contours of her body. She sighed and reached lazily into her bag for a book to read until Ginny retuned.

It had been over an hour since she had returned to her dorm and Hermione dropped her book to her lap defeatedly. It was hard to read when her stomach screamed at her every few minutes for food. She folded the corner of the current page of her book before setting it down on her bedside table. She sighed heavily, clutching her stomach in her hands thoughtfully. Perhaps Ginny had gone straight to the great hall.

She rose to her feet and straightened out her partially creased Rob: it had folded slightly on the corner she had lied on. She briefly combed through her messy bush of hair before heading to the door and leaving the dorm.

When she arrived at the great hall, as she had suspected, Ginny was sat amongst Ron and Harry as they piled their plates up greedily with food, clearly not bothering to wait for her. She placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and she snatched his head around. He shuffled a few feet to the left and Hermione slid into the new gap in the bench next to him. Whatever extra space was left between the pair, he seemed to close as he slid a few inches back towards her.

"Hermione, we thought you weren't coming." Harry said, his speech muffled by the large amounts of potatoes he had attempted to stuff in his mouth, clearing underestimating the amount of space one would take up. "I was waiting for Ginny." Hermione raised her eyebrows briefly at Ginny before she quickly dropped them and turned away, reaching for the bowl of potatoes Harry was greedily hoarding.

Ginny stuttered slightly before managing to form a sentence and what she saw as a plausible excuse. "Sorry I was— busy." She blushed a light shade of pink, dropping her eyes so it focussed on her plate. Hermione thought her excuse was pathetic but smiled nonetheless. "That's okay." She said.

The table seemed slightly more tense since she had spoken but then again it always did. Hermione wasn't doing it on purpose but she always seemed to say the wrong thing or speak at the wrong time. Whatever she did was was considered wrong and it caused the group to hold a small amount of tension. It was carried with them as long as they were with Hermione. Whenever she left, she seemed to take it with her as she often observed them from a far away enough distance so she wouldn't be disruptive and they seemed extremely more relaxed.

Hermione felt as though they treaded carefully around her. Worried that one wrong word would set her off. She tried to be easier to talk to but she always felt so tense that she couldn't help but pass it to others through her words or actions. Sometimes her presence was enough to make the mood drop. They ate in almost complete silence and Hermione was glad when it was over so she could leave and indulge in the comfort of her own bed.

Hermione groaned at the growing clatter of distant footsteps in the halls as she stirred. Ginny was shaking her awake, fully dressed and frowning sternly at her from the side of the bed.

Hermione's eyes widened and her eyebrows knitted together as she sharply inhaled through her nose. "What time is it?" Hermione asked as she sat bolt upright, panic visible across her face.

"Time to leave." Ginny chucked a bag in Hermione's direction and Hermione searched the room desperately for her uniform, chucking the book from yesterday aside and aligning herself in the mirror. She had fallen asleep in her uniform.

She turned quickly to Ginny who was frantically tearing the room apart for Hermione's shoes, "did you come back yesterday?"

Ginny stopped and turned to face her, "no, I stayed with Harry again, I thought you would have just assumed. I'm sorry I should've let you know." She offered an apologetic smile but immediately averted her gaze to the tip of a shoe poking out from under her bed.

"Here!" Ginny lobbed one, then two shoes in Hermiones direction and she bent her neck to the side as the shoes landed short of where she stood. They rushed for the door. The halls were brimming with a rampage of students as they poured through the halls. After a moments hesitation, Hermione slipped into the gathering of people , followed by Ginny who quickly merged into the crowd after her.

-

Ron entwined his hands with Hermiones as they followed ginny and Harry slowly through the empty halls. The couples didn't speak and the silence was eerie with unsaid words. Things had changed since Hermione and Ron had become a couple, they were both less relaxed and their relationship almost seemed forced. Then again, they had spent their whole life as just friends and the new found "love" between them was strange. Their relationship meant they had expectations to uphold. If Hermione was honest, she had always thought of Ron more as a brother,both him and Harry, which made the situation even worse.

"Ah Miss Granger. Can I steal a moment of your time?" Dumbledore towered over them all as he stood on the side of the corner they were about to turn, almost as if this encounter was not an accident. Hermione slid her hand from Ron's tight grip and grimaced at the new duey feeling laced between her fingers and spread across her palm, "Of course, sir." The young witch smiled at each of her friends, then left with Dumbledore in the opposite direction.

"May I ask the purpose of this?" Hermione craned her neck to the right so that the headmaster was in her line of vision.

"I wanted to personally thankyou for agreeing to help Draco Malfoy."

Hermione didn't reply. Her throat closed up and her mouth felt dry, as if she had swallowed every drop of saliva her glands had to offer. Malfoy was the one she was tutoring?

Dumbledore continued, "I have no desire to watch an extremely talented wizard throw his life away."

"I wasn't aware that It was Malfoy I would be tutoring and with all due respect sir, I don't think I can." Hermione halted, a small gesture to prove that her mind would not be changed, causing Dumbledore to frown at her as he turned.

"I'm sorry sir, I refuse." Fixing her posture she waited expectantly for Dumbledore to speak, toying with her fingers surreptitiously behind her back.

"I understand. Though if you change your mind, mister Malfoy will be waiting for you. It's your decision whether you show. But please, miss Granger. Do consider it."

Hermione nodded and they parted ways. Draco malfoy - the boy who had terrorised her and her friend group since first year. He was heartless and cruel which landed himself a brutal punch in the face from Hermione. She scoffed to herself. He didn't deserve her help, he was a bad person who only ever looked out for himself and she suspected that if she were to agree, Malfoy would use the time to harass her.

The end of the day was approaching, which meant for Hermione, the start of her own personal hell. She couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy had been told about the arrangement and if so his views. Surely he would be just as repulsed by the idea as she was, possibly even more. She didn't believe the boy knew how to accept help in the first place, always trying to persuade everyone that he was the best, although Hermione had already taken that title.

Hermione thought 7 days a week was absurd, she would be left with no free time, it must've slipped mcgonnagals mind that Hermione did in fact have a life outside of studying and school work. As much as she did love filling her brain with as much knowledge as possible and helping out whenever she could, she too did enjoy a butter beer with Harry and Ron on the occasion, although rare.

The air became thick with the heavy rumble of voices and quickly enough Hermione was brought back to the present: a dull muggle studies classroom. By the increasing amount of students gathering their things, she assumed the lesson had ended and realised she didn't really pay much attention to it all, considering all she could think about was this almost cruel extra curricular she was being forced into. Hermione sighed slinging her bag over her shoulder. There was no other way this could end accept badly.

—

"This is ridiculous." Draco got abruptly to his feet, his chair losing balance and tipping over to the floor as he did so. Mcgonnagal sighed and slowly blinked.

"If you would just calm down, this is for your own benefit." She slowly stood up herself, offering a smile to which Draco immediately dismissed as he scoffed.

"And I'm only now finding out about this arrangement because?" He raised an eyebrow. What were they thinking? Him and granger. They may as well have thrown him in a lions den unarmed. His stomach turned at the mere thought of being in the same room with her. He wouldn't accept her help, he didn't need it. He soon realised the old witch was not going to answer him, "and she's okay with this? Granger I mean."

"She is no keener on the idea than you." Mcgonnagal began walking towards the door, seeing no reason to argue as either way, it would go ahead. As Draco watched the witch patiently stand next to the open door he scoffed and with a final opinionated glance at McGonnagal, he strode furiously out of the office.

—

The overwhelming smell of pastries lingered in the air and Hermione sat uncomfortably next to Ron as he scoffed down his fourth pasty in the last 5 minuites. Hermione had barely touched her plate, her stomach was a mess of anxiety and disgust which made the idea of eating unbearable. The tight not of anxiety in her stomach made the food impossible to force down, usually catching in her throat like a cough. Ron reached for another pasty and Hermione felt her face turn a slight shade of red as she darted her head in his direction.

"Do you ever stop eating?" She asked in a harsher tone than intended. Perhaps it was jealousy - that he had not a care in the world and she had been burdened with helping her rival. Ron paused and dropped the pasty back down to his plate.

"What's got your knickers in a twist." Ron looked at Harry as he laughed and Hermione felt her cheeks become increasingly more crimson.

"Honestly, Ronald." She huffed and flung her legs over the bench before standing up and strutting out of the great hall, scanning the slytherin table as she did so but the boy she was looking for wasn't there.

When she arrived back at her dorm, she was met with a constant clatter on the window. She huffed, trudging towards the window before wrenching the curtains open and staring downwards near her window sill. Even after Hermione had clearly acknowledged the tapping, the owl was persistent, retreating its head before swinging it at the glass again. Hermione rolled her eyes, the tendency to pester that most of the owls possessed aggravated her. It was only when she tugged the window open, that the bird paused. It cocked its head considerably to the side before jutting out its head, attempting to draw her attention to the letter clutched tightly in its beak.

She snatched the piece of parchment from between its beak, almost ripping it due to the force she had used and the birds sudden reluctancy to let her have it. It was like it could sense her distaste for it. When she had had it, she slammed the window shut causing the owl to disappear in a squabble of chaotic feathers. She made to sure to listen for the sound of the retreating flap of its wings before pulling the curtains shut and perching on the edge of her bed.

As she sat in her dorm, with the curtains pulled around her bed,she wondered if Draco would even make an effort to turn up. Part of her felt sympathy for him. After all, he was the boy who had no choice. But the way he chose to treat people made her stomach turn viciously,it disgusted her. Not to mention blood prejudice. Even if it had been engraved into his brain at a young age that pure bloods are superior, it didn't excuse his actions. Surely he didn't believe the ludicrous claims. Hermione herself was a Muggle born, still earning the title 'brightest witch of her age'. The facts were right in front of him and yet he chose to ignore them. Therefore, she believed it was his decision to think what he thought. Not his farther's, nor his mothers. His.

Hermione wanted to change that. Wanted to change him. To fix him. She doubted it was possible but the thought of sitting in a room for an hour with a boy who thought he was superior to her purely based of blood, made hers turn cold. After fighting back and forth in her head for at least five minutes, she decided she would go. Not for him. For herself and mcgonnagal.

She had half an hour until she had to be in the potions classroom and began gatheringher books and tossing them messily in her bag. The cold water cooled her cheeks as she got a handful from the tap and splashed it against her face once more. Her reflection stared back at her as she looked up, holding the two sides of the sink in a firm grip. A shaky breath escaped her, peering down at her watch which read 6:50pm she threw her bag over her shoulder and set off for the potions classroom.

Slowly, she turned the last corner and the classroom came into sight. Her shoes clattered loudly agaisnt the stone floor, almost overpowering the rapid beating of her heart. If Malfoy was waiting for her he would know she was coming merely from her footsteps, meaning Hermione couldn't turn back no matter how much she begged herself to and divulge in the comfort of her dorm or anywhere he wasn't. The door was slightly agape and she swallowed hard, stepping through the threshold and eyeing the empty classroom.

He wasn't there.

She sat in the chair facing the door. It was a small desk with two seats opposite eachother, no doubt purposely done by mcgonnagal who Hermione silently thanked. Being in the same room with malfoy was enough, but sitting next to him, being that close to him, she wouldn't trust herself not to throw an unforgivable his way.

"Boo." Hermione flinchedand reached for her robes pocket, her eyes shot to the direction of the voice and a broad build filled the frame of the door. Draco chuckled and stalked towards her. He pulled out the chair to at least two foot away from the table - from her - and sat down, slouching.

Hermione returned her focus to the table and began spreading out her revision books, "you're late." She said matter-of-factly. Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression quickly turned sour and he leaned forward so his elbows were rested on his knees and his hands came together infront of them, "Let's get one thing straight, Granger. I don't like you and I most definitely do not want to be here. So just be thankful I came at all." Hermione gazed at him, almost dumbfounded and she scoffed.

She wondered if he was given a choice to attend like she had been.

"What and I suppose you think I want to be here? I didn't have a choice, Malfoy." She lied but it didn't matter. "Just do what I say and we can get through this quickly and efficiently."

Draco leaned back in his chair and toyed with his wand in his lap as if he hesitated for a split second in what he planned to say next."I don't take orders from you-" Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Mud blood." Draco smirked. As much as she tried to hide it, a pained look spread across her face and although it was gone in a second, Draco saw it. She hadn't been called that since third year, by him.

It was always him.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" He grinned again as he pouted mockingly. His expression slowly turned into a malicious smile.

Hermione felt her chest grow hot. Her jaw contacted wildly and began to breathe heavily. She could feel her fingernails drawing crescents in her palm. It was so much the word that affected her, it was his ignorance.

"Take this. I'll see you tomorrow." Hermione slid a book forward on the table and rose from her chair, the metal screeching against the hard floor before she quickly left the room. Draco eyed the book for a few minutes before sighing and swinging it under his arm before strolling out of the door.


	2. Two

The great hall was crammed with students, all wearing some sort of either red or green item of clothing. The Slytherin and Griffindor quidditch match was today. Hermione had remembered Harry and Ron mentioning it a week or two ago, going on about how they barely got any practice in - Marcus flint had pre-booked the pitch for the whole of the term and no matter how much the other teams complained, there was nothing they could do. Most of the time, they ended up flying recklessly around the courtyard but as you can imagine, that never ended well. 

Ginny snapped her fingers inches away from Hermione's face, bringing her back from her thoughts and gaining her attention. Hermione abruptly snatched her head to face Ginny. "Are you going to watch the match?" Ginny scooped another spoon of cereal into her mouth, looking up at her through her eyelashes. Hermione turned to Harry who was smiling softly at her, and then to Ron. He looked ridiculous in his quidditch uniform, especially that ghastly hat he wore. Ron placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed. "I'll be there." Hermione half-heartedly smiled. She wasn't particularly fond of quidditch, she never had been. Too brutal for her liking, barbaric she often said. Although the fact that she was never able to get the hang of it, most likely swayed her opinion. She immediately took a distaste to anything she was unable to do - which wasn't much.

-

The wind swirled around her, picking up and dropping her hair in multiple directions as it danced around her face. Ginny scooted closer to Hermione and the stand creaked.  
"How are you?" Hermione kept her eyes on the pitch. She wasn't aware that malfoy had been allowed back on the team after ditching all the practices, then again she didn't exactly keep up with the sport. Turning to Ginny, she offered a smile, "I'm okay. How are you? And how are you and Harry?" Hermione nudged the other witches arm suggestively and they both giggled.

"I'm doing well and I don't know what you mean." She looked away guiltily, attempting to hide her smile. Although Ginny and Harry never really showed it, it was common knowledge that there was something going on between them. The way they looked at eachother was enough proof. They had Hermione wishing for something similar and she almost felt guilty for thinking such things considering she was in a relationship with Ron.

"How's my brother treating you?" Hermione watched Ron as he sat in the goal, preparing for the box to be opened and the game to begin. Almost on cue, it did. Hermione sighed, "Ron's lovely." Ginny looked back at Hermione and furrowed her brows. "That wasn't an answer. Look I can tell somethings different, anyone could by just observing you two for a few seconds. Talk to me ,Hermione. He may be my brother, but you're my friend." Sincerely, Ginny smiled.

Hermione knew she could trust her and for a second she almost replied. Almost told her that ever since he asked her the question, she hasn't been feeling the same. How he doesn't give her butterflies anymore, doesn't excite her. How she wished she could go back to before. But the words caught in her throat like a cough and instead she just looked at her, smiled and returned her gaze to the rampage of players on the pitch.

Ginny did the same. They didn't talk anymore. Not like before. Hermione was her closest friend, like a sister to her but at this moment, she felt more distant than ever. Ginny tried to rekindle their friendship but it was useless. Hermione wasn't interested in anything anymore and now she only invited her out as a kind gesture, already knowing her answer was inevitably no.

Hermione didn't even have a reason for her ways. She knew she had grown colder, more distant. She liked to be alone despite her friends never ending attempts to force her out with them. Perhaps it was the conversation she had shared with Mcgonnagal at the beginning of the year. The one about her parents. She couldn't bare the thought of her own family forgetting her. But with Voldemort's return, there was no extent she wouldn't go to in order to save the people she loved.

Maybe if she had no one to love, things would be easier.

The Griffindor tower cheered and whistled as many of them got to their feet. Harry pinched the golden ball between his fingers, wings frantically twitching. He had caught the snitch and the game was over. Ginny smiled to herself, this had to have been the quickest time yet and she was sure he would be delighted with himself.

-

The common room was ecstatic as Harry stood centre stage with rows of people standing around him cheering. Ron emerged from the crowd and strode proudly towards her, "Hermione did you see me out there today? I was brilliant!" Ron tightly huggeed her, the overwhelming smell of sweat invaded her senses and she cut the embrace short. She raised her eyebrows and smiled, "yes. Yes you were." She realised she hadn't payed attention to the game what's so ever, occupied with her thoughts and she wasn't even aware of the victory until she saw Harry proudly holding up the snitch and malfoy rolling his eyes, out of view behind him.

"Hermione!" Harry called out, pushing his way through the crowd and muttering apologies as he side stepped past them. "Harry you were amazing. This must be your new record time." She hugged him tightly. He smelled more pleasant than Ron had.  
"Four minutes, just beating last time. Oh, Hermione, Oliver is hosting a party here tonight to celebrate, you must come." Hermione had already dismissed the idea before she replied, "oh, no I don't think so." She lightly laughed and Harry shook his head.  
"When was the last time you had fun? Besides, we haven't properly hung out in ages." Hermione hid her slight offence and began to talk but Harry cut her off, "and no Hermione, breakfast and dinner is not hanging out." He knew her too well. Ron tugged her arm, gaining her focus.  
"Please. For me." She looked at her friends and laughed, "okay fine." Harry's face stretched into a grin, "perfect, it starts at half seven. I'll see you both there." Harry left to presumably go find Ginny and Ron readjusted so he was standing in front of his girlfriend.

"We can have a few drinks at seven before we go if you'd like."  
"I don't think I'll be drinking, Ron." The disappointment on his face was evident and she sighed.  
"I'll have a few drinks but I have somewhere to be so I'll just see you there."  
"Okay, I love you." Ron quickly pecked her.  
"Love you too." It wasn't a lie. Hermione did love Ron but not in the way he wanted her to.

The walk to the potions classroom felt faster than usual. Possibly because she knew what to expect now, whereas last time she was utterly dreading it. Malfoy was waiting for her. They didn't speak until she sat down.

"I won't be able to stay for the whole hour." Hermione took out a piece of parchment in which had a list of subjects and tasks, prepared by some of Malfoy's professors. Draco didn't reply, nor did he look at her. "Griffindor are hosting a party." She carried on, picking a subject off the list and reaching for the corresponding book. "They're celebrating their win."

Draco looked up and they made eye contact. "Did I fucking ask, Granger." His expression was bland and unreadable but his tone was harsh and the witch paused staring at him. "What is your problem? I am trying to help you."  
"I don't want your sodding help." Hermione laughed and Draco frowned, confused to the cause of her amusement. She dropped the book to the table. "No." Hermione stared at him. Draco frowned, sitting up slightly, confused to her sudden change of tone.  
"I'm not leaving again, if that's what you think is going to happen. You can't say anything to make me leave." Hermione turned the book and slid it towards him. He simply slid it back to her.

"Honestly, Malfoy how childish can you be?" She pushed it back to him. Draco didn't speak, just returned the book to her. Hermione paused, she needed an answer to the question that had been nagging her brain for so long. "What is actually wrong with you?" Draco looked up at her quickly, meeting her eyes. Hermione's heart began to beat faster but she wouldn't back down. She had a sudden urge to hurt him. To hurt him like he had to her all these years. "Did mummy and daddy not love you when you were younger?" Her tone was derisive and his eyes were fixed on her, his expression murderous. "Granger." He spoke through closed teeth as he bared them dangerously but Hermione didn't stop. "Daddy not praise you enough? Is that why you are like this? Or maybe-"

Draco brought his fist down hard on the table. It shook violently and Hermione jumped. The room was silent.

"I shouldn't have said that." She said, staring nervously at the still trembling wood, her heart was beating wildly against her rib cage. She unsure whether to feel scared or guilt.

He deserved it, she told herself.

"No, you shouldn't have." He gritted his teeth and the skin by his jaw dipped and contracted as he tensed. The stretched skin turned yellow around his knuckles as he clenched them into tight fists. He was staring at the desk. 

"Just take the book and read pages 268 and 269. Answer the questions in the back after." Hermione picked up the book and warily held it in front of her so it hovered just in front of his chest. He thought for a while before peeling his eyes away from the desk and reluctantly taking the book from her.

The music travelled far down the walk to the Griffindor commons and she scolded whoever forgot to use a charm to keep in the sound. It was closer to eight than half seven and Ron was probably under the impression she had ditched. She reached the portrait and uttered the password. The mumble of voices mixed with the music instantly hit her ears, taking her a moment to adjust to the new surrounding before beginning to look for Ron.

Hermione had sought out the drinks table before any of her friends and had decided to help herself, pouring a generous amount of whiskey into a glass.

"Hermione!" Ginny had swung a lazy arm around Hermione's shoulders and was shouting into her ear, "let's do shots!" Hermione laughed at her visibly drunk friend but poured two extra drinks into shot glasses and handed one to her. "Ready?" Ginny nodded in reply and their heads flung backwards in sync. The liquid burned the back of her throat on its way down and Ginny reflected Hermione's facial expression: a scrunched nose and frowning. "Again!" Ginny snatched Hermione's shot glass, messily filling her own with it. "Ginny, you're drunk enough."  
"But you're not," Ginny winked and downed the drink in one, holding out Hermione's in front of her. Rolling her eyes, she took the glass and did the same. Her throat burned again but not as much as the first time and they giggled to eachother.

"Where are the boys?" Hermione sipped the glass of whiskey she had previously made, the alcohol was already effecting her and she still needed to find Ron and Harry, after all she was there for them. Ginny pointed and Hermione instantly spotted a flash of red hair in amidst the crowds. Nodding, she left her friend and headed off towards them, squeezing through the groups of people and stumbling every so often. The boys faces lit up as Hermione approached them and they also had drinks in their hands but they were surprised to see the one in hers.

"Harry, Ron." She flung her arms over each of their shoulders and the boys shared a knowing look, grinning to eachother. "Alright there Hermione?" She could already feel the room warp slightly as she pressed the glass to her mouth, inviting the feeling as the whiskey travelled down into her stomach. "Never better." She grinned idiotically and Harry spoke again, "Havent seen Ginny, have you? Bloody girl keeps disappearing."  
"She was by the drinks table when I saw her, she's most likely still there." Hermione pointed and the boys chuckled. "Of course she is." Harry excused himself and Hermione turned to Ron.

"Sorry I'm late, I was held up." She would have informed him about her tutoring sessions with Malfoy but she knew he wouldn't be fond of it. Then again, none of her friends knew. She would've felt guilty but it was better off that way.  
"That's okay, I'm just glad you're here and enjoying yourself by the looks of it." He eyed the glass and she downed the rest in one, swaying slightly and he balanced her, holding her tightly by her waist. In one quick motion she reached for his glass and pried it from his grip, downing his drink too. "Hermione I think you should slow down." The intoxicated witch grinned slowly and tilted her head, "no." She was having a good time for once and she wasn't planning on stopping.

She pecked him quickly on the lips bringing back his smile slightly. "I'm going to get some air." She turned to leave but he grabbed her arm. "I'll come with you. You're drunk."  
"I'm not that drunk, Ronald. I'll be fine." She snatched her arm back and headed for the door. The music had become overwhelming and her head was spinning, distorting the walls and faces of the people around her. She probably should've listened to Ron but Hermione liked to latch onto these feelings, considering they happened so unoften and she didn't regret drinking the amount she did. She let her legs take her, no desired destination in particular, just slowly strolling through the abandoned corridors and giggling to herself every now and then.

The cold air nipped at her bare legs as she left the comfort of the building. Hermione was dressed in a black high neck bodysuit, with lace reaching down the whole length of her arm, and a tight, white pencil skirt that clung tightly to her shape. Ginny had chosen her outfit and she had changed in the bathroom after tutoring. She was fond of the top but the skirt was unlike her. Her hair was in a slicked back ponytail and her shoes, sued ankle boots. The black lake came into view aswell as the figure of a person leant up against the old blossom tree. She considered turning around but the alcohol said otherwise and she approached the shadow with confidence. The water reflected the moon like a mirror. It was still, there was no wind that night, very much appreciated by the inappropriately dressed Hermione Granger.

"Hey!" She shouted, stumbling slightly as the grass became more uneven and unpredictable. As they turned around, the moonlight reflected perfectly off the side of their face, the rest in shadow, and then, Hermione realised her mistake. Frowning back at her was malfoy. Of course it was him. "Granger? What are you doing here?" He turned to face her and she laughed, "I wanted to go swimming. Why are you here, malfoy?" That was a lie, she wasn't sure what brought her there but she knew for a fact, it wasn't to swim. Draco didn't answer and Hermione scoffed looking to the side and almost toppling over due to the sudden movement. "Always a mystery, Malfoy." He raised his eyebrow and stepped closer to her. "Granger, are you drunk?" A grin was plastered across his face and he tilted his head to the side.

She looked back at him and raised her hand in a pinching action leaving little space between her thumb and pointer finger. She grinned widely and he chuckled - it would've surprised her if she had been sober. The silence made her ears ring but it was not awkward. Draco stood a few feet in front of her, his eyes travelling down her body and back up again as he put his hands in his pocket. Stepping closer to her, Hermione stood wide eyed, unaware of what to do. Her head told her to step back but she didn't much listen to her head when intoxicated. "I like your top. Classy." He had his bottom lip between his teeth. She had never seen him do that before and for a minute, she could've forgotten who he was and admired the charming the boy. The way his hair flopped messily over his forehead and the figure hugging suit that exposed his lean seekers build.

"Why'd you have to ruin it?" Hermiones voice didn't come out as strong as she wanted it to, the nerves causing it to waver slightly. Malfoy frowned again. "What do you mean?" Hermione wanted to tell him. She wanted to say that she thought he was attractive and that if it wasn't for his dreadful persona, he would be almost perfect but not even the alcohol would allow her to do that and undoubtably make a fool of herself. She looked to the floor, "never mind." He began to step towards her, close enough that his scent, mint and cologne, roamed around her and invaded her senses but she didn't have enough time to react, Draco stood before her. They were mere inches apart.

"Ruin what, Granger." Hermione didn't look up, she was aware of the little space between them and had no intention to further shorten the distance. "Look at me." Her eyes stayed at the floor. "Granger, look at me." Her heart was beating extremely fast and she could only hope he couldn't tell. He gripped her chin and snatched her head up to face him. Hermione gasped and his grip tightened. "Tell me."  
"No." She said firmly looking back at him and his jaw tensed as he stared at her a little while longer, then looking away. Hermione closed her eyes and kept them shut for a moment to compose herself. Draco stepped away. He hadn't lost eye contact since she got to the lake and the new distance, or the fact that she had slightly sobered up, made her shiver in the cold.

"Next time, choose a different skirt." Hermione frowned at his statement. He looked her up and down once more, dragging his eyes considerably across her shivering body, "you look like a slut." He spat the words at her like venom, exaggerating every syllable. Hermione began to breathe heavy, as he grinned she stepped forward so his face was almost touching hers. His expression had faded, replaced with a crease between his eyebrows as he frowned. He looked down at her, only inches away from him.

"Fuck you." Hermione slapped him. Hard. And Draco stumbled back at the force, staring at her in shock. His cheek grew red and irritated as he swallowed, pushing aside the sting caused by the harsh contact of Hermione's hand. It reminded him of third year and it would've made him laugh had he not been so angry. "Deja vu." He spat, a menacing look plastered across his face as he grinned wildly, blood coating his lips. He patted the deep split with the pad of his thumb. Hermione froze for a second, watching him nervously before she quickly spun on her heal and practically ran back to the entrance of the school.


	3. Three

Hermione muttered the commons password, stepping back as the portrait swung open. She had been gone for at least an hour and just hoped that Ron, and the others for that matter, wouldn't ask questions. The room was more quiet than before but students were still scattered around, glass in hand and the music still played faintly in the background.

To her surprise, there were still half full bottles of liquor in the corner of the room and Hermione grinned as she ran to the table to pick one up. She searched the room with her eyes for Ron and as he smiled in her direction, Hermione downed what must have been half a bottle of gin. She would regret that in the morning.

"Hermione, I thought you'd never come back!" Ron chuckled and reached for the bottle in her hand, drinking the last few drops.  
"Sorry I got distracted." She offered a smile, "but I'm here now. Where's Harry and Ginny?" They weren't in the common room and Hermione didn't really need an answer to realise they were most likely snogging somewhere.  
"What do you think?" Ron was being sarcastic and as she laughed, she felt the alcohol reach her head.

Hermione wouldn't say she was a horny drunk but on the rare occasion she did drink and the alcohol was gin, she could certainly become one. She smirked, reaching for Ron's hand and turning to walk towards the stairs. He obediently followed, the alcohol he had been consuming all night meddling with his senses. As they approached her dorm, Ron stopped. "What about Ginny?"

"She's never in, always with Harry. Besides, what do you think is going on here, Ronald?" She was joking of course but Hermione did enjoy the sight of her boyfriend flushed.

Closing the door, she quickly kicked of her shoes and pushed Ron to the wall. She pressed her body against his and aggressively attached their lips. Ron's hands slid down her back and rested against the dip at the end. She shivered at the light contact, eagerly attaching her lips to his neck and sucking hard, Ron's constant moaning egging her on and she brought her face up to his. They looked at each other, breath mingling with the others.

"Do you want to-"   
"Yes." 

Hermione observed herself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, gripping the sides of the sink firmly. She could still feel Ron's orgasm slowly travelling down her bare stomach. She sighed before thoroughly wiping herself down with a towel and heard Ron groan sleepily from the bed beyond the door. They had only ever had sex a few times but Hermione had never reached her climax and at this point she was starting to believe such thing was a myth.

The longing between her legs, screamed for attention and she crossed them. Ron wouldn't even touch her there, he never had. She assumed it was because she had never asked. Ron definitely couldn't handle that type of conversation.

The morning light filtered through the stained glass window of Hermione's dorm. She groaned, reaching for her temples to massage them - an attempt to relieve her headache. Her bed still felt sticky from the night before. 

A small breeze tickled the back of her neck and it wasn't long 'till she realised Ron was breathing heavily behind her, deep in sleep. Hermione scrunched her nose while squeezing her eyes shut and sighed.

She tapped him lightly on his shoulder, "Ron." Her boyfriend groaned and stirred before returning to his still state. She shook him harder. "Ron, you must leave, Ginny will be back soon." She sighed looking around the room at their discarded clothes splayed across the floor. "And I can't imagine your sister would appreciate this as the first thing she sees when she returns." Ron remained still.

"Ronald!"

The boy jumped up straight, facing Hermione and eyes wide with alarm. "Were you listening to me?"  
Ron opened his mouth to speak but looked down instead. Hermione sighed, grabbing his clothes from the floor and chucking them in his direction. "Ginny will be back soon." The witch looked at Ron and then the door, before heading towards the bathroom. She assumed Ron had gotten the idea and hoped that when she returned, he wouldn't be waiting.

The warm water slid down Hermione's body, caressing her every curve. Her head fell back and she smoothed the stray hairs back with her hands. The only time her hair was ever straight, was when it was wet. It never lasted but it was beautiful while it did. It tickled the small of her back, growing longer due to the extra weight. She combed her hands through it gently, admiring its length and beauty. Her hair had been with her through it all and she'd never even consider cutting it.

Hermione had slept through breakfast and didn't see much point in attending lunch, she wasn't fond of the food that was being served. She had spent her day in the library doing some light reading and the tranquility was refreshing. The past few weeks had been exhausting for her and the young witch could only hope things would get simpler. Her optimism was shattered as her eyes landed on a certain icy haired wizard strolling into the hall. She observed him for a while. Malfoy didn't have many friends, if any at all. Just acquaintances. People he would use and then discard later on. Albeit, he had kept Pansy and Blaise for a while. Perhaps he took a liking to them, they were pure blood slytherins and wealthy she could imagine. She saw the way that everyone watched as he approached the table and some even went silent almost in awe, especially the girls. They loved him, he was their idol like Harry to the Griffindors.

"Hermione." Ron nudged her and she realised she had been staring too long. Quickly, she faced forward again, looking at Ginny and Harry and then Ron gazing at her from her left. "Ron." She smiled.  
"Are you alright? You seem...distracted." He pursed his lips together into a thin line.  
"I'm fine, Ron." He reached for her hand but Hermione found herself pulling it away. It was a un thought out gesture and one that was instantly regretted. Ron frowned, looking at her hand then at her as he slowly retreated his.

"I'm not hungry." Hermione swung her legs over the bench and walked at a fast pace towards the doors. Hermione hadn't eaten well for days, everything just felt off, like so much had changed between them all. Perhaps it was her. Maybe she was the problem. 

When she passed the doorway, she turned a corner, stopping at the wall and leaning against it. She rubbed the back of her neck. She hadn't meant to pull away from Ron and she wasn't sure why she had. Or maybe she did but wouldn't admit it.

"Hermione?"  
Oh, merlin.  
Ron warily approached her, "what's wrong with you?" Hermione didn't respond and didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. "One minute you're... well... you know." Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. "And the next you won't touch me. Merlin, you won't even look at me 'Mione!"

Neither spoke, scared to break the silence Incase something that couldn't be taken back was said. Ron sighed and began to walk away but he stopped and turned around. She still wasn't looking at him. "I miss you Hermione." Ron walked away.

Her body ached. She wanted to be the girl they needed, the girl they used to know but it was hard to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She gnawed at the soft inside of her cheeks until they stung from the rawness. 

She pushed open the door to the potions room and Draco was sat in his usual seat, head turned so he was watching her. "Hey." Hermione sat down. The last time they had spoke, Hermione's hand had collided in a harsh manner with his face. In all fairness, Malfoy had it coming but what worried her was that she cared about his opinion and she wanted to rip the bloody skirt off of her when she heard his distaste for it. Draco nodded.

The air was thick with tension and they could both feel it. Draco looked up,   
"So, Granger-" he paused when his eyes reached hers, then her neck and then her eyes again. He quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head at a slight angle, taking in the strange and foreign sight. Hermione grangers neck was scattered with bruises, love bites he assumed and the sight would've been new to nearly everyone, not only Malfoy.

"What?" Draco didn't respond. "Malfoy, what is it?"

After a short pause, he reached over the table and slid his hand around the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the light red and purple knots, splayed across her skin. Hermione felt her breath hitch as she swallowed hard, goosebumps formed on her skin as his thumb traced her jugular. He was warmer than she expected him to be.

She was surprised he would allow himself to be that close to her and as she felt his thumb move slowly across her skin, surprised he would even touch her without a face of disgust following quickly after. She looked into his eyes that were focussed on her neck. And then she realised, her eyes widening.

He slumped back in his seat, his spearmint scent retreated away from her and Hermione began to blush, pulling her robe to cover her neck.

"Don't be embarrassed, Granger." He chuckled and she scoffed, dropping her robe back down in defeat. Hermione thought back to that night. Rushed and unsatisfactory. She lowered her gaze to the table and Draco raised an eyebrow.  
"Boyfriend troubles? From the looks of it, you would think it was going quite well." Eyeing her neck he held his bottom lip between his teeth. She Blushed. She had heard he got around so surely he must do the same as Ron, prioritise himself. He did with nearly everything, so she doubted he would be any different in bed.

"No, everything's... fine." She hesitated and knew he would notice but she didn't much care to hide it. "Cmon, what is it, Granger. Unless you don't plan on teaching me anything this lesson."  
"I do, so drop it and take a book." Draco stayed still for a second, before moving towards the table and opening one. He began to smirk, scanning the pages and keeping his eyes glued to it,

"Tell your boyfriend to try harder next time. They are pathetic excuses for love bites."  
Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm again.


	4. Four

Hermione was late for dinner for the third time this week. She didnt want to admit to herself that she was avoiding Ron but it was hard to dismiss when everytime she caught a glimpse of auburn hair, the witch changed direction. She missed how close they all used to be and Hermione often thought about if her Ron had stayed just friends, it could still be like before.

The hall hadn't as many students in as usual, considering most had already eaten and her friends were easy to spot. Swallowing, she began to walk towards them. Ron gazed at her, stalking her while she walked and Ginny and Harry shared glances of concern.

"Hey." Hermione sat next to Ron and he leaned away from her, it was subtle but enough for Hermione to notice. Harry avoided her eyes and Ginny offered looks of sympathy.  
"Okay, what's going on?" Hermione huffed, dropping her fork and crossing her arms.  
"When were you going to tell us?" Ron stayed staring at the table.  
"Tell you what?"  
"You've been seeing Malfoy."  
"Ronald, I'm tutoring him for goodness sake."  
"I know." He didn't look at her.  
"So what's the problem?" Ron lifted his eyes to meet hers.  
"Well, it's Malfoy, Hermione!"  
"I am tutoring him, Ronald! You're being ridiculous." She wondered how they found out but thought better than to ask.

"I'm being ridiculous? You probably spend more time with him than you do us! You avoid us for days and not to mention, you decided to keep whatever this is," he flung a hand upwards, "a secret."  
Hermione hated to admit it, but he was right.  
"Ron, it was easier that way." All four of them were quiet for a while.  
"It's strange ,Hermione. You're being secretive and distant and it's strange." Ron got up to leave and Harry offered a smile before leaving with him.

Ginny stayed sat, eyeing both parties. "Gin?" Hermione stared at her expectantly but as Ginny rose, the witch looked down. "I'm sorry ,Hermione." As her only friends walked away from her, Hermione stuffed her face into her hands. She never really was a cryer, never saw much point in it. She stayed submerged in her hand until she gathered enough strength to leave.

Hermione had been in the library all night. It was past curfew and the school was abandoned so she gathered her things and made to leave. Her shoes seemed louder on the stone than during the day as she hurried down the dim lit hallway. She hoped that Ginny would be sleeping in the dorm tonight, she deserved an explanation and avoiding each other wouldn't be much help.

She began to approach the potions classroom which she ditched earlier that night. She wanted to be alone and definitely not with Draco, though she should've told him she wasn't going as she hoped he would do for her. The guilt quickly faded, the realisation that malfoy was a rude, selfish boy filtered into her brain and she rolled her eyes at the mere thought of him.

Quickly, Hermione was pulled backward by the hood of her robe. Regaining her balance, the familiar scene of the potions room came into focus along with the strong smell of mint. Draco. He stood infront of her, his right eye posing a deep purple.

"Draco?" She reached for his face but he snatched her wrist. It was close enough to him that she could feel his breath tickle the side of her hand. A sharp sting shot up her arm and her fingertips began to go numb at the strength in his grip. "You should've seen the other guy." He smirked, dropping her hand and putting his in his trouser pockets.  
"Who did this to you?" She examined his face further, noticing the remnants of a bloody nose. "Ask your boyfriend." Stepping closer, he scoffed, "seemed to think you and I are sneaking around. Involved is the word he used I believe." 

She doubted Ron meant sneaking around romantically as such, but it didn't surprise her that Draco took it that way. She looked down at her shoes, watching his move closer.

"So, I would like to know what it is you've been saying." Draco moved closer as Hermione stepped back, her heart beginning to beat noticeably harder, her blood flow quickened, pulsating through her at an alarming rate. "I didn't say anything." 

Draco stepped forward. "Are you sure?" Hermione's back hit the wall behind her and she pressed herself tightly against it to gain more distance, watching as he continued to close it.

The witch opened her mouth to speak but her words were lost as he placed a hand next to her head, trapping her. He was at arms length and his scent was all around her now, inescapable. Teasing her in a sense. It was strangely alluring.

"What's wrong, Granger?" Draco tilted his head, "do I make you nervous?" He was close enough now that hermione could see a fresh split in his lower lip.

"You disgust me." She spat the words out, unsure if she actually meant them and Draco's eyebrow jerked upwards. Draco leaned forward, his head tilted downward towards her and slightly to the side. He pulled his lower lip inward with his teeth. They were breathing the same air, mere inches apart and for a second, as Draco leaned in closer, Hermione felt her eyes flutter shut. But he didn't make contact. His fingers gripped her chin and roughly pushed her head to the left so he had access to her ear.

"Who are you trying to persuade?" He whispered, a grin tugging on his lips as he moved his face back In front of her, hands still firmly around her jaw. Her chest rose and fell violently in sync with her heart as she stared ,open mouthed, at him.

And then as quick as the wind changed direction, his expression turned bitter.

"Tell your boyfriend to back the fuck off." He pushed her head back so it hit the wall and let go. She blinked, dazed and instinctively reaching towards the back of her head.

Heading towards the door, he spoke again, not bothering to look back, "and don't ever stand me up again."

Hermione was left dumbfounded and humiliated. Speechless against a wall. All she had to do was push him away and yet she wanted to do exactly the opposite, to step closer, close the small gap left between them. The thought made her ill but it didn't make it any less there. 

She had been frowning ever since Draco made his leave, certain she would have a permanent line between her eyebrows. He made her seem helpless and small. Hermione Granger was neither of those things and she wouldn't have him thinking she was.

Hermione lied on her stomach, reading a book she had gotten from the library the previous hour. She had the curtains pulled around her bed, spelled to keep any noise or distractions unheard, not like she was expecting Ginny to sleep in the dorm as she hadn't been for a while. It could have been down to Harry and the want to spend more time with him but Hermione suspected it wasn't. As she came to the end of her page, the curtain was pulled and Ginny stood over her.

"Hermione, can we talk?" Hermione sat up on her bed, folding the page of her book and setting it down on her dresser.  
She smiled, "of course, sit." Ginny smiled back in relief, taking her place in front of Hermione as they turned and sat cross legged opposite each other. They both waited for the other to speak first and, knowing how stubborn Hermione can be, Ginny was the one to break the silence.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner, you see it's Ron he's not himself and neither are you." Hermione quickly looked down at the mention of Ron's name, playing with her hands. "He misses you, we all do but you've changed. I don't know why but if I can, I want to help." Ginny reached for her friends messy bundle of hands and held them still.

Hermione scoffed, "I don't think you can but it's fine Gin, it's nothing serious. It's silly."  
"I know he's my brother but you can talk to me Hermione, I'm your best friend." Hermione looked up. Ginny was profoundly omniscient and Hermione never understood how as for the most part she kept to herself. Though she didn't question it.

"I'm fine. We're fine. It's just different now is all. I'm giving myself some time."  
"Okay and-"  
"And the malfoy thing right, you see I was asked by-" Hermione began, speaking fast her words came out a messy jumble of nonsense.  
"Hermione!" Ginny laughed squeezing her friends hands, "I was going to say I'm here for you if you need to talk. We don't have to talk about malfoy, you're a smart girl and I'm sure you have your reasons. Just tell us next time."  
"I assume mcgonagal told you." She pushed her lips into a thin line and Ginny frowned.  
"Blaise told us." Hermione furrowed her brows as she narrowed her eyes. "Well, he told Ron anyway, and Ron told us."

Why on earth would Blaise tell Ron and how would he have known? It was strange to think that Malfoy would mention her to anyone else as even she didn't tell her friends.  
"Hermione?" Ginny leaned slightly closer and Hermione broke out of her trance.  
"Oh, yes, I see. Well, I'm sorry for not telling you Ginny."  
"That's okay. I don't know if Ron is prepared to be as understanding as me but with the Christmas ball coming up, I'm sure he'll sort himself out."  
"The Christmas ball?" Hermione frowned and Ginny reflected her expression.

"Well I very much doubt he will want to go on his own." She laughed and Hermione stayed silent, confusion evident on her face.  
"Oh of course! You weren't in the hall when it was announced. Which reminds me, you really should start turning up on time, Ron has always already eaten half the food on the table before you arrive, not that you eat much lately anyway." Hermione disregarded her friends last statement.

"When is it?"  
"This Friday."  
"Three days? What will I wear? My wardrobe consist of at least 5 pairs of the same jeans and one skirt." Hermione thought back to the time at the lake, "and no offence Gin, but I'm not wearing that skirt again."  
"Our parents were notified and asked to provide our dresses. They will arrive on Friday morning, breakfast." She squealed, squeezing Hermione's hands again, "Isn't it exciting?!"

Hermione wasn't much a fan of big events but she liked the idea of getting dressed up for one night and dancing until her feet hurt with all of her friends. It was much needed and relief coursed through her when she realised this would most likely mean Ron would have to forgive her, unless he wanted to spend the whole night alone.

Friday had slowly come around and Hermione sat at the Griffindor table with Ginny, Ron and Harry. She always found that when looking forward to something, it came slower which made it all the more exciting. The room buzzed with excited chatter as everyone waited for the owls to drop them their dresses or suits. Some showed worried expressions, much like Ron's, when he wasn't stealing quick glimpses at Hermione.

"Lighten up, Ron." Ginny slapped her brothers hand, "I'm sure mum won't have picked something totally dreadful this time!" She laughed, knowing well that Mrs weasley would have indeed picked something just as bad as fourth year, or worse even.

The rumble of voices turned to cheers as the owls came quickly through the door and windows. They were positioned in an arrow shaped format, only breaking formation when dipping down to the table to drop the package clutched between their talons. Students around them began ripping them open, dots of colour scattered throughout the room as all sorts of wild dresses and suits emerged from the bags.

Ron's was dropped shortly after the first and Ginny grinned mischievously. Being the only girl in the family, other than Mrs weasley of course, she had it easy. He pushed his lips into a thin line and began to open the package. He pulled out a bundle of frilly ends and mesh.

"Bloody hell." Ron whined, holding the dress robes in front of him and frowning.  
Ginny sniggered, "looks like it is even worse than fourth year." They were a messy mix of brown and marmalade yellow with the occasional piece of mesh and frilly sleeves at the bottom of each arm. The fabric rose high up the neck and connected halfway down the chest in a v shaped dip.

The next two packages were dropped and Ginny and Harry squabbled over which was theirs in a frantic attempt to open them. Harry never questioned where his came from, he was used to gifts from the professors by now but as always he thanked them after. They pulled the fabric out at the same time. Harry held up a classical black suit with a white button up and trousers while Ginny held up a dreamy lavender dress and small heels and as they admired the two gifts, Hermione's package was dropped in front of her, startling everyone in a perimeter of 7 foot. Hers was abnormally larger than everyone else's, thus the heavy sounding noise it made, hitting the table.

She put it on her lap under the table, earning the attention of Ginny.  
"Aren't you going to open it, Hermione?" She put her dress down in front of her, folding it into a neat square.  
"I think I'm going to wait until tonight." The group nodded, returning the focus to Ron's horrific dress robes.

The day passed quickly and soon enough, Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Ron were once again sat at the Griffindor table. Ginny was seated next to Hermione and Ron and Harry were opposite. Things had been better recently, but Hermione supposed that was because for the whole week, it had felt like Ron and herself weren't in a couple. She should've been unhappy like Ron seemed to be and yet she mainly felt relieved.

As she slid the last spoonful of ice cream inter her mouth, Ron looked up from his plate.  
"Hermione." He rose from his seat, beginning to walk to the large doors of the great hall. She looked back at Ginny who looked at Harry. He must've noticed her furrowed brows as he spoke, "go with him, Hermione!" He laughed as she abruptly swung her legs over the bench, hurriedly walking after him.

Turning the corner, Ron stood on the other side of the door.  
"I'm so sorry Hermione. For everything. I was absolutely being ridiculous, I mean you and Malfoy? What was I thinking? I-" Hermione grabbed his face and joined her lips with his. He froze for a second of hesitation before following her lead. She pulled away.  
"Let's just forget about it." She smiled as she smoothed the peak of his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb.  
"Oh and Hermione, will you go to the ball with me?"  
"Of course, Ron. There is no one else I would rather go with." She dropped her hand and he sighed, skimming across her features, "I love you."  
Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek, reaching for his hand and walking back into the hall.

Draco watched as they walked back to their table. Granger and Weasley. What a cliche.  
"Draco are you listening?" Pansy moved her head so it came into his line of sight, covering his view of the couple. He rolled his eyes, "What?"   
"You and I are attending the ball together." He looked at her blankly and she scoffed.  
"Tonight." Pansy reached for his hand but he pulled away, concealing it under the table and out of reach.  
"Right. Blaise who will you be bringing?" Blaise was sat eyeing a girl at the bottom of the table.  
"Her." Pansy, Theo and Draco followed his stare to a black haired Slytherin girl, rapidly batting her eyelashes at Blaise.   
"Is she having a stroke?" Theo tilted his head to the side, frowning as he observed the girl. Blaise glared at him as Draco grinned.  
"Do you even know her?" Draco looked back and Blaise who's attention was back on the girl. "No. But by the end of the night I reckon I'll know her inside out." He winked at the black haired girl, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as he turned to face his friends. Pansy scoffed and Theo laughed holding out his hand for Blaise to grab as a sign of respect.

"You're going to get a name for yourself, Zabini." Draco glanced back at the Griffindor table, watching the chosen one and his followers. He was careful to not be caught staring. "At least it will be a good one. Have you heard what the girls say about their experience with me in bed?" Blaise said and Theo laughed again. Draco rolled his eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips, though Pansy was not amused.

"I'll never know why I choose to associate with such children." They laughed and she looked at Draco again, "I'll see you down there so don't wait up for me."  
"Wasn't planning on it, princess." Blaise raised his eyebrow and winked at Pansy, who scoffed and turned back to Draco.

"Draco, understand?" He offered a half-assed nod, which must have been good enough, for she turned her attention to the end of the table again. His eyes still glued to the one behind her.


	5. Five

It was approaching 7 o'clock and Hermione stood, admiring herself in the mirror. It was the first time she had put the dress on. No doubt, it was a princess dress, tight at the waist before bursting into multiple full layers of thick fabric. The vermillion cloth hugged her waist and chest, accentuating her breasts as the shape dipped down in the centre. The straps were mesh, hanging lazily off her shoulders.

Ginny burst through the door, a makeup bag in one hand and hair wands in the other,  
"We're doing this the old fashioned way." She dropped the equipment onto the bed and then turned to face Hermione, cutting her speech short, "you look incredible, Hermione."

Hermione faced back to the mirror, "Thankyou Gin but it's just so big." The girls chuckled and Ginny reached into one of her bags, "the bigger the better." She pulled out a curling iron, a hungry look in Ginny's eye. Tilting her head, Hermione sighed, "do I really have much of a choice?"

-

By the time Ginny was done with Hermione, it was 8 o'clock and they were late. Hermione's hair landed just short of her waist, Ginny had given her a small amount of mascara and then started getting ready herself: the purple dress clung to her figure until turning to a fairly like skirt nearer her hips.

"Harry and Ron said they'll meet us down there." Ginny slipped on her flats while Hermione struggled with her shoes, wobbling on one leg. With one last look in the mirror from them both, they darted out the door, tripping over the bottoms of their dresses on the way.

The halls were empty as the majority of students, most likely, would already be at the ball. Christmas was over a month away and yet they still chose to hold it now, though Hermione was grateful, it was just what she needed; an escape. Light music started to surround them as they neared the hall, along with mumbling and laughing from the students. Both the double doors were spread open and as Ginny and Hermione stood at the top of them, their hearts beat fast, almost in time with the music being played at the back of the room.

Pansy rolled her eyes scoffing at something behind Draco and he frowned, turning around to face the stairs. There, stood at the top was Granger. She wore a red dress; talk about house pride and her hair was curled, resting perfectly around her waist. She didn't look like her self, not the usual messy, stressed witch he was used to seeing every evening. She looked serene.

"Griffindor's princess." Blaise switched his focus between Hermione and him, raising an eyebrow before looking her up and down.  
"I would gladly have a bit of Granger." His mouth was agape, tongue pushed against his teeth. Draco's eyes were sternly focussed on his friend who should've stopped talking at the end of his first sentence.

She began to walk down the stairs, hands keeping her dress raised slightly so she could just about see her shoes. Ron waited for her at the bottom, awestruck and speechless. Hermione took his hand in hers. "Ron." She curtsied and he bowed his head, "Hermione." They both laughed, returning to their usual posture, "you look amazing. Not that you don't always look amazing." He flushed, speaking quickly.  
"Thankyou, Ron. You look rather fetching yourself." She grinned at him, in all honesty, he looked nothing near to fetching in his ghastly dress robes.

"Can I get you a drink?" He gestured to the table to her right.  
"That would be lovely."

-

Ron stood leant against the wall, drink in hand and watching his sister with Harry.  
"Ron, it would be better if you didn't watch them, you know." She laughed reaching for his arm and squeezing it. The couple at the other end of the room had been kissing all night and though he was aware of their usual antics, had never really seen them like this before.

The lead singer of the band began to speak, earning theirs, along with most of the rooms, attention, "now, I want everyone on the dance floor, partner up, you'll know the dance." Without a second thought, Hermione grabbed her boyfriend's arm, dragging him towards the centre of the room and into the mass of people. The beginning to a song she recognised began to play and, in instinct, two lines were formed; boys and girls. The lines bowed to each other before taking their partners hand, swapping places with them and then pulling each other to the middle and back out again. 

Pansy grinned at Draco as he looked anywhere but at her as Blaise danced next to him, practically undressing his date with his eyes as they spun in circles, her dress often rising slightly too high.

Ron firmly gripped Hermione's waist, lifting her into the air and her dress inflated with the air under her. Her hair became disheveled as they spun, keeping eye contact and as the song slowed down, they released each other with a parting smile.

Draco practically pushed Pansy off of him, hearing the slowing of the song and as he found himself back in the line, a new partner was staring back. He looked at her and she stared back, her curled hair swept messily over her face and her mesh straps offering scarce support to her dress.

She watched him, unsure of what to do. He gave away nothing, watching her intently as if waiting for her to move. She wouldn't. If he had really thought of her as small and helpless, something to throw around and treat however he liked, this was her way of proving him wrong.

She wouldn't back down and nor would he. Too stubborn you could say.

Draco held out his hand, eyes still glued to hers and as Hermione placed hers on top, her heart rate quickened. She had been expecting him to recoil away, frown in disgust and yet he didn't. Draco closed his hand over the back of hers, guiding them in a circle before the music quickened and so did he. He slid his hand down from her shoulders, following each curve of her spine before resting it at the small of her back. Their hands were elevated in line with their heads, firmly gripped onto one another's as their feet danced below them with ease.

Draco took hold of her waist, hoisting her into the air, much higher than Ron had, and carefully lowering her back down. He was treating her like an ornament, something fragile that could break if too much pressure was applied or force was used. Their eyes remained lost in each others, brown in grey, fire in rain. They grew breathless, Hermione was pulled towards Draco as their bodies collided, completely pressed up against one another and their rising chests in sync. Their short breaths merging. Their foreheads were almost touching, their scents mingled; mint and raspberry.

It was the type of smell picked for a perfume or cologne, unexpected and different yet so perfect, contrasting with each other in such a way one would crave it. They hadn't lost eye contact since the beginning of the sequence and, looking into one another's eyes now, faces so close together, they knew, no matter how small, something had changed.

The guitar abruptly stopped and Draco pushed Hermione away from him, walking down the room and out of the side doors. Stumbling backwards, the flustered witch looked around, Ron had been watching her dance with him. He shook his head before setting to leave through the large doors at the peak of the stairs. She chased after him, grabbing his arm as he reached them.

"Don't." Ron turned away but She frowned, tightening her grip on his arm as he tried to shake her off.  
"Ron. I had to dance with him, he was in front of me, I had no choice."  
"When we changed partners, do you know who stood in front of me? It was Lavender." Hermione swallowed, suddenly feeling as though she was at the losing end of an argument. 

"Just as Malfoy stood opposite you, except I didn't dance with her. There's always a choice." He yanked his arm away from her, leaving through the doors. Hermione sank down on the stairs where she was left, burying her head between her knees.

What he saw was two rivals made to dance with each other under unfortunate circumstances. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps he was making things up to explain her distancing and their faulty relationship, justify her behaviour and using Draco as an excuse. But it was him. It was Ron and he wouldn't allow himself to think that possibly there wasn't a specific reason for the fall of their relationship, just that they weren't right.


	6. Six

"What did you do?" Ginny had shaken Hermione awake, intensely staring at her from the side of the bed. A million thoughts ran through Hermione's faulted head.  
"I haven't done anything." The witch groaned, turning to the other side of her bed in hopes to resume her slumber. By the time Hermione had settled down in her new position, Ginny had strutted around the bed and yanked the other curtain open. "Have you seen the state of Ron?"

Hermione snapped her eyes open, sitting bolt upright in her bed and glaring dangerously at Ginny. All anyone ever seemed to worry about was Ron. Ron's feelings, Ron's problems or any minor inconveniences at that matter.  
"He is making things up in his head. Delusions. Perhaps to make himself feel better, I really don't know, Ginny. But do not continue to blame me for things that I cannot control." Her breath was heavier, becoming shorter as Ginny swallowed. "Hermione I didn't blame you for anything." 

"Ginny, you have just burst into my room at who knows what time, woken me from my sleep which I had spent hours to achieve and then asked me what I had done. Like all of Ron's problems lead back to me. I bet you didn't even consider the fact maybe Harry had done something or even yourself. So do not tell me you haven't blamed me for anything when that's exactly what you have done." 

Ginny was stunned. Speechless as she watched her friends chest rise and fall.  
"Hermione I-" Ginny paused, watching her for any indication of what to do next but coming up short, she decided herself, quickly wrapping her arms around her neck, pulling her closely and to her relief, Hermione's arms slid around her waist.

"I just want things to go back to how they were before." Hermione's voice had softened, muffled by Ginny's jumper. They released each other, the red haired girl resting her hand on the back of Hermione's neck. "I know. And it will, just talk Ron and everything will return to normal." Ginny smiled.

As she spoke, Hermione quickly realised she didn't understand. No one would ever understand. Too wrapped up in the fantasy idea that was meant to be hers and Ron's relationship. Hermione had told her, direct and upfront and yet Ginny still couldn't understand. 

"Thanks Gin."

-

Later that night, Hermione was restless. It had taken so long for her to manage some sleep before Ginny's interruptance that attempting it now, would be useless. Her mind was well awake, swarming with thoughts and worry and so she slipped on her shoes, careful not to wake Ginny, and headed out of her dorm. It wasn't yet light and the witch scolded herself at the fact she had completely forgotten to bring a candle or her wand. Her eyes soon adjusted and she found herself nearing the library, often shivering at the odd breeze that slithered under her loose pyjamas.

Much like the halls, the library was empty: no distractions. Hermione smiled, heading towards a shelf that held muggle books. She sat herself down in a corner she considered to be the warmest, leaning against the bookshelf behind her and opening the book. Her eyes skimmed the pages but she failed to register them like she was watching the words but not listening to them. Her head really was a mess. She slammed the book shut in frustration, the dust misted around the cover, proof of its rejection.

"And they say you're the smartest witch of our age. Can't even read." Draco was leant sideways, cross armed against the bookshelf opposite her. His eyes remained on the page he held open by his thumb and middle finger, occasionally stroking the spine with his pointer. Hermione huffed, "are you sure you're not going to run away from me again if I talk to you?" She raised an eyebrow at him as he adverted his gaze to her. Abruptly, he closed his book.

"Was that an attempt to mock me, Granger?" He tilted his head as he pouted and then reset his face so it was untelling, all except from a raised eyebrow. "You're pathetic." He smirked, watching her below him, appreciating the difference in height.   
"What is it you're reading, or trying to read."

"It's Lord Byron. And they're poems. It's brilliant."  
Draco scoffed turning to face the bookshelf and dragging his finger across the spines.  
"Can't be that great, I've never heard of him." He began to walk towards her slowly, keeping his hand and eyes occupied on the covers.  
"He's a muggle." Draco paused and clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes.  
"And I'm an excellent reader, I'm just having trouble focussing today."

He looked at her, "boyfriend troubles again, Granger?" Hermione frowned, staring up at him as he smirked. "How do you know that?" She narrowed her eyes at the young wizard. "Before I left, I saw the look on his face. Quite amusing actually, we should do that more often." Ignoring his growing grin, she turned away. "I assumed you had left too quickly to notice." He didn't speak, distracted by something that seemed to be happening in his head.

"I have my reasons." He paused before spinning on his heal, looking at her. "Tomorrow bring something to drink. But if you bring Butter Beer, Granger, I will never let you live it down."

He was grinning again, the type where the corner of his mouth curled upward, the left side more prominently than the other and it caused dimples to form across his cheeks. Hermione was silent for a few considerable moments and Draco raised an eyebrow.

As the witch got to her feet, she tilted her head up at him - the height difference embarrassing. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Malfoy?" The boy raised his eyebrow and Hermione laughed. "I'll see you there." She began to walk away.

"Goodnight, Granger."

-

The red haired witch grinned wildly. "Depends. Tell me what it's for."  
"Ginny." Hermione warned, lowering her head and Ginny scoffed as she slouched back. "Fine but don't get yourself into trouble. Any preference?" A wide smile spread across Hermione's face. "Anything is fine." 

Ginny nodded.

"Have you spoken to Ron?" Ginny had noticed the red haired boy, peeking from outside the doors and then appearing out behind them with, what she assumed, a reassuring glance from Harry as he followed after him. "No." She sighed, "I-" The boys reached the table, taking their usual seats; Ginny with Harry and Hermione with Ron. Before she could speak, Ron had leant in and pecked her on the lips, offering a smile and then reaching for the potatoes in front of Seamus. The normality of his action scared her. Had he forgotten the previous night or was he choosing to ignore it?

The two girls shared the same puzzled expression, watching each other as the boys carried on normally. Hermione frowned and in return Ginny shook her head, brows also furrowed. After attending to his own plate, Ron held the bowl of potatoes in front of Hermione's face but she shook her head, turning away. All was well until Harry looked up from his plate, his smile turning sour as he scowled at the boy stood towering over Ron.

"Malfoy." 

Hermione swung around at the mention of his name, almost wobbling and tumbling to the floor.  
"I'm not here to talk to you, Potter." He turned. "Granger, are we still on for tonight?" She felt her cheeks glow a slight shade of pink as she sat speechless. This would be hard to explain. "Yes, I'll see you there, Malfoy." Hermione felt her friends' watchful eyes. "See you then, Granger. Don't be late." He winked, laughing as he walked off, blaise following behind. He knew what he had done and he relished in his success.

"Hermione, what's he talking about?" Ron spoke for them all, Ginny and Harry listening in carefully for her reply. "I tutor him today." She turned back to her plate, attempting to dismiss the situation by passing it as casual. "You do that everyday." Harry frowned, this was the first time he seemed to have his own opinion. Hermione's heart began to beat faster, lying to the people she cared for wasn't exactly top of her 'to-do list' but in this circumstance, it was deemed necessary. "I haven't been in a while. Stood him up a few times."

Ron pursed his lips at the choice of her words. She seemed to, without realising , suggest they were dates. He decided not to press the matter.

"Okay. I hope it goes well." Hermione relaxed her shoulders at Ron's reaction, relief drowning her. But Ginny hadn't stopped staring, eyes narrowed for she knew this would be connected to Hermione's previous request. For a moment, she pondered on the thought of following through with her ask but Hermione was the smartest witch of her age, and Ginny trusted her. 

-

Hermione soon realised that Draco and herself had never talked about what they would be wearing. She thought for a while, unsure whether to wear her uniform - her usual outfit choice - or some jeans. She immediately dismissed the idea of wearing a skirt or dress as she had no desire to impress Malfoy and wasn't fond on the idea of a repeat of the night at the lake. The witch sighed, flouncing to her wardrobe and pulling out a simple pair of jeans and vest top. She changed quickly, noticing the time.

Her top finished just above her navel, dipping low at the top and was held up by two thin straps hanging loosely around her shoulders. On her legs, she wore faded black skinny jeans that hugged her thighs and flared out below her knees.

With one last glance at her watch, she left her dorm, Ginny as usual was nowhere to be found. She hadn't spent much time in the dorms recently and even though she and Hermione were currently on good terms, that didn't sway the situation.

The only noise in the vacant hallways was the quiet, hollow glug from the glass bottle in her bag along with the usual patter of her footsteps. Immediately, Hermione wished she had thought to bring a jumper as the cold, winter air nipped at her bare skin. When the door to the potions classroom came into view, she felt a wave of nerve's overcome her, leaving butterflies in her stomach as an after math. She had never seen Malfoy intoxicated or even slightly out of it. Hermione was hoping to get him to lower his guard.

She stepped through the threshold and Draco sat turned away from her. "You're late." Hermione scoffed pulling her wrist closer to her eyes. "Malfoy its been 3 minutes." She carried on towards him. "I know, you're late." He stayed focussed in front of him as she pulled out the chair opposite, slumping down and reaching into her bag. Draco's eyes immediately darted to the bottle Hermione had placed in the middle of the table.

He raised his eyebrow, "gin?" He picked up the bottle to no doubt read the label and brand. "It was all I could get." 

He shrugged, uninterested as his previous question was more a statement than anything curious. He lowered the glass gently back down to the table as he placed another bottle next to it.

"Whiskey." Hermione looked at the bottle and then him, he was grinning. She frowned narrowing her eyes at the boy opposite her. "Let's play a game." He said. The whiskey was now opened and firmly in his grip. "What sort of game?" She mirrored him, opening the Gin and waiting for further instruction. "We will ask each other questions and refusing to say the answer, means you drink. A generous amount." Hermione grinned, one eyebrow raised. "Let's do it. I'll go first."

She re-adjusted her position in her seat. "Is it true you've had sex with nearly every girl in slytherin?" Draco laughed, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead as he lifted the bottle closer to his mouth. "Fuck me, Granger. The first question?"

"People talk." She said simply.  
"And do tell me, what do they say, Granger?" His eyebrow was raised, forming lines on the top of his forehead and the side of his mouth was tugged upwards in the hint of a smirk. The witch shrugged, "things, I don't know. I don't entertain rumours."   
"Well then, from the man himself, I'll tell you they would be good things." Her body flushed briefly with heat as he smirked, pushing the bottle to his lips, parting them and swallowing. His face was unfazed as the warm liquid ran down his throat. The left side of his lip began to rise. Hermione was eager to hear his question and what interested him about her, what he wanted to know.

"Are Weaslette and Potter shagging?" Hermione hid her disappointment well. Would any of his questions actually concern her? She took a shot, failing to conceal her face of disgust as she scrunched up her nose. He rolled his eyes, disappointed with her response as he sat back in his chair.

"Are you and Pansy more than friends?" Draco laughed. "Fuck no." He scoffed.  
"You can't lie." She said, looking up at him through her eyebrows.  
"I would never fuck Pansy." He laughed more, reaching again for his bottle and taking multiple swigs.

The witch frowned as she watched him drink the whiskey. "You answered the question, why are you drinking?" She brought hers closer to her lips but hesitated.  
"Makes things more interesting." He smirked, raising an eyebrow at her as she did the same, taking multiple gulps of the burning liquid.

Draco paused for a moment, then leant forward, elbows on the table and chin in his hands. "Is Weasley a good fuck?" He was serious, raising his eyebrow at her expectantly. She hesitated, her thoughts already clouded by alcohol and she drank, though she knew the answer. "I want to go swimming." Hermione screwed the lid on the over half empty bottle and put it in her bag, swinging it over her shoulder and abruptly standing up. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Granger." Draco scoffed looking up at her. The witch rolled her eyes, taking a handful of his shirts fabric and attempting to drag him upwards but he grabbed her wrist, holding on tight and throwing her hand away. He stood anyway. "Fine."

Hermione's hushed giggles penetrated through the hallways, followed by the odd chuckle from Draco as they stumbled messily through the school. As they left the building, the air was harsh on Hermione's skin and in that moment, she was thankful for the Gin that was now warming her up. "It's going to be freezing, you know." Draco watched her begin to fumble with the button on her jeans, observing in surprise as she began to pull them down and off her ankles. He looked away, unsure of how she had expected him to react but she wasn't concerned with the boy next to her as she pulled her shirt over her head.

"Seriously, Granger?" He stayed facing the vacant area next to him.   
"Are you coming?" Draco didn't answer. Hermione used her pointer finger to swivel his head towards her, shock overcoming his features. "Are you coming?" She repeated but Draco wasn't much listening. His eyes roamed her body, starting at her chest, her stomach and hips, then her legs. She was different to how he had expected, her waist tugged inwards before her hips curved out. He looked up again, studying her underwear choice. It was a matching set of purple lace, hugging the sides of her breasts and covering just enough that he couldn't see through. Draco was surprised she wasn't wearing red.

"Yes." He pulled his shirt over his head, dishevelling his hair so it flopped messily over his forehead, and quickly he tugged down his trousers to reveal grey boxers. They stood opposite each other, more exposed than they've ever been, both unsure of how they really ended up in this situation. Draco's lean figure tempted Hermione as he towered over her, mouth slightly agape. "Race you there." Hermione grinned, setting off into a sprint towards the lake and Draco followed, laughing on the way.

Hermione stopped at the end of the grass but as she turned around, Draco's body collided with hers and they toppled sideways into the water. The cold stung them both like a million pin pricks and they rose to the surface. Goosebumps formed on their skin as they shook with the cold. The pair stared at each other, it could have been the way the moon softened his features or how the delicate droplets of water clung to his skin but Draco looked beautiful, tempting.

"Is it a myth?" She blurted out, looking down but immediately back up due to the glimpse of his stomach and underwear that hugged his body a bit too tightly. Draco laughed as he frowned. "Is what a myth, Granger?" 

She thought, hesitated for a moment but she wouldn't back out now and besides the alcohol wasn't doing much to stop her.

"Girls finishing. Is it a myth?" He didn't speak for a moment, not registering the witches words. "You're serious?" He said after a while, eyebrows raised in something similar to disbelief. She nodded, already regretting asking the question. "I guess Weasley isn't a good fuck." He laughed but she frowned.  
"That isn't an answer." Draco raised his eyebrow, approaching her slowly, gradually closing the space between them so their faces were inches apart. "Let's just say," his breath ghosted across her lips, "if you were mine, Granger, you wouldn't be able to walk for a week." Draco smirked, swapping between her eyes and agape mouth. She couldn't speak. "IS that a good enough answer for you?" She didn't reply again and Draco tilted his head to the right as they watched each other, adverting their gaze from eyes to lips repeatedly. They could smell eachother; mint and raspberry.

Once again, they were breathing the same air, faces aligned with one another as they subconsciously began to close the gap. His breath rolled into her mouth, grazing her tongue and forcing her forward. They shared the same expression; confusion and concern. She wanted him and he wanted her but there were consequences. They were enemies, raised to be rivals and yet here they were, half naked in the lake, desperate for each other.

Draco's nose touched her cheek, his head angled to fit hers and his heart beat rapidly faster. There was nothing he wanted more but he couldn't take her; ruin her. Hermione's eyes closed but Draco had moved back, beginning to swim to the bank. "We should get back." He hoisted himself onto the grass as she swam towards him, reaching for his hand for assistance. He pulled her up and they rose to their feet. Neither of them moved, watching the other with lustful eyes as they stood a few feet apart, exposed and ready to risk it all. Draco pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his breathing becoming heavier with every look below her eyes.

"Fuck it." Draco practically ran towards her cupping her face with his hands and pressing his lips to hers. She gasped, stumbling backwards. Her back found something solid as she pushed against the large tree behind her.

Hermione brought her hands to his back, raking one downwards as the other tugged at his hair. He groaned into her mouth, forcing a leg between hers as his hand made its way to her throat. She gasped again and he slipped in his tongue, bringing it back out again as their mouths closed on one another's. Their hearts pounded, minds racing. Draco pulled away and for a second. 

Was he about to cower away, insult her?

They remained silent, panting and staring at one another. Instead, he tilted his head and attached his lips to her jaw, sucking slightly and biting while moving downward across her neck. She threw her head back, releasing a small moan. She practically felt his smile against her skin as he began to suck harder, pressing his body eagerly into hers.

Hermione's hand roamed his bare back, clawing at it as he began to leave kisses along her chest, sucking on the fuller areas. Draco felt his blood rush south, he kissed her wet skin harder, running his tongue along the top of her breast. She felt him against her, indenting on her inner thigh and she adjusted herself so she could feel him more. 

The feeling was new. She hadn't known it was possible, to be so desperate for someone that you actually crave them. She slowly pressed her hips into him, grinding herself on his bulge and he groaned into her skin, moving his hand from her neck to her stomach. He wrapped it around her ribs, trailing it lower and lower until he pushed two fingers under the waistband of her underwear. Her breath hitched and he joined the kiss again, aggressively deepening it. They were in complete ecstasy.

Just around the corner, there was movement through the entrance to the school followed by childish giggling.

Draco and Hermione pulled apart, coming back to the present and watching each other, panting as they drew in ragged breaths. This would be where the regret set in. He forced himself away from her, eyeing her bruised neck and swollen lips. He had done that.  
He turned to the floor, searching for his clothes and upon finding them, quickly struggling to put them on.

He held his shirt in his hand as he walked away bare-chested, too eager to leave to put it on and she was left breathless against a tree. Him leaving her in some sort of belittling situation was becoming a common occurrence and she couldn't say she like it. Although, she was more fond this time than the last.

She gathered her clothes, changed and headed for the school. The daunting realisation that not only had she just cheated on Ron, she had done it with Malfoy.


	7. Seven

The next day tortured Hermione, mocked her. Her inevitable fate waited for her at precisely 7 o clock and all she wanted to do was crawl up into a ball, never to be seen again. Instead, she sat in muggle studies, avoiding any chance of interactions and staring hard into space.

What had she done? What had they done?

The guilt consumed her and she buried her head into the fabric of her jumpers sleeves.  
"Miss Granger?" Hermione's head shot up immediately at the mention of her name. Although her mind was preoccupied, she was still immensely alert. Mcgonnagal stood shyly in the doorframe and when she asked to 'have a word', the witch's heart rate rocketed.

The door closed behind Hermione and the professor signalled her to walk.  
"I regret to interrupt your learning miss Granger, I have been meaning to speak with you for a while." They walked side by side as Hermione stared at her worriedly, a slight look of horror across her face. Hermione saw no other reasoning for the encounter other than that she knew. Told by the very girls who had saved Draco and herself from doing anything they would severely regret she assumed. Mcgonnagal's judgement was admittedly the last thing she needed. The regret and guilt she already felt consumed her and she was in no way needing her closest professor's verdict on the whole situation.

"How are the tutoring sessions going? Nether you nor Mr Malfoy have approached me on the subject and I assume you both do attend." Mcgonnagal spoke the last part as more of a question, unbelieving that the two students had managed to go 2 weeks with not one complaint or problem. Hermione swallowed, her legs began to tremble and face visibly paled whether mcgonnagal noticed or not.

"Everything is on track. I have him take back books to read and study and then we discuss when we see each other again." The lie rolled off her tongue too easily.  
"And you two get along well enough?" The professor sounded shocked. She wasn't the only one. Hermione bit her bottom lip, a habit of hers, before speaking.  
"We get along just fine." She said as she offered a half-hearted smile at her professor.

"I'm glad." Mcgonnagal returned the smile more sincerely. "I will try check up more regularly but for now, continue as you are." She stopped walking and Hermione did the same as she sighed and stared at her feet. "Professor, when can I stop tutoring Malfoy?" Mcgonnagal frowned at her students sudden change in tone, unaware her previous one was a mask. "When we see an improvement in his test scores." Hermione nodded, keeping her gaze at the ground. "Now if that's all I must be off, I have some first year girls to educate on the seriousness of being out of bed past curfew." Mcgonnagal left with a parting smile and Hermione felt her cheeks heat up furiously, her eyes wide. She assumed they would've been the same girls that interrupted Malfoy and hers rendezvou.

She physically shook her head, attempting to push away the idea that they could have possibly seen anything. She was overanalysing considering Malfoy most likely wouldn't think twice. What had he had to lose? Apart from damaging his reputation, the stakes were not high for him. But Hermione had been unfaithful. And the guilt ate at her from the inside, rotting her slowly. She had decided seconds after the disloyalty that she wouldn't tell Ron. She told herself it was for his own sake and that she was sparing his feelings. But , in all honesty, she couldn't confidently say that was the case.

The next few hours passed quickly and usually Hermione would be delighted but in this instance, she yearned for time to move slower, save her from her inevitable death. Of course she was thinking metaphorically, but as far as she was concerned, seeing Malfoys face again was enough to inflict so much guilt, that dying would have been a much easier option.

She pushed the ridiculous idea from her head, huffing and slinging her bag over her shoulders as she watched herself disappointedly in the mirror. Maybe if she pretended to forget the whole thing happened, it would be like it hadn't. She stared at her reflection before leaving her dorm and heading to the potions classroom.

The hallways seemed colder this time, spiteful almost as if they had watched her walk these same floors with Malfoy only the day before. She cowered between the walls, dropping her head as she continued to walk quickly through them. If she had just broken up with Ron before hand, she would be saved from the guilt and worry but the price of self-hatred is a small one to pay if it meant keeping her friends from despising her.

The classroom door, though open, was empty when she arrived. She sighed walking over to her assigned chair and resting her head in her hands. Part of her hoped he wouldn't come, didn't expect him to either but when the harsh screech of the doors hinges pierced her ears, her hopes were well and truly shattered. She gazed up and Malfoy stood leant against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smug look plastered across his face. "I'm late." He said. 

"Indeed." She had no desire to amuse him. Though she thought it was odd, considering Malfoy was extremely precise about his times that he would allow himself to be late but immediately dismissed the idea as he frowned and began striding towards her. He yanked the chair out from under the table and stood in its place, hands holding him up and eyeing her harshly. He shrunk his shoulders so his face was hardly 7 inches from hers and she could tell he was biting his cheek. A look of hesitation flashed quickly across his features, if she hadn't been watching him so intently, she would've missed it. 

"Look, Mudblood. Nothing happened last night and nothing ever will. You have dirty blood running through those veins and I would never even consider mixing any type of bodily fluid with you. You disgust me and I want you to know that. Do you understand?" He spoke maliciously, as if every syllable he spat venom at her. Hermione scoffed and shook her head.

"Why in merlins name do you think I would ever expect anything from you? You are pathetic and cruel and we were drunk. That's all it was and that's all it will ever be. I understand if you want to forget the events of last night, as do I, but don't blame me for your mistake." Hermione hadn't realised she had rose in her outburst of fury as she panted heavily, inches away from him.

Malfoy was speechless, mouth slightly parted as he stared back at her blankly. He knew what she addressed as 'his mistake' was that he had kissed her but she couldn't deny that she kissed him happily back. It was far from one sided. His eyes made their way to her mouth, she was biting her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He remembered how she tasted. How she felt pressed again at him, skin on skin. It was so fresh in his mind, the feeling almost re-emerged and he began to grow hot, skin tingling but His eyes darted back to hers, afraid of lingering too long and causing suspicion. They didn't speak, nothing but their frustrated breaths, brushing against each others face. Raspberry and mint.

Hermione cleared her throat and Malfoy retreated backwards quickly, his expression was indecipherable. He wore a mask and only when they were mere inches away from each other could she see past it.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore. I'm sure mcgonnagal will understand." She gathered her things.  
"If that's what you want." He calmly spoke back to her.  
"It is." She gave him one last look before sighing and leaving through the door.

This time, Malfoy was the one left speechless and humiliated.

The following day, Hermione had told mcgonnagal that ending the tutoring sessions had been requested by both parties. The professor understood and to her relief, dismissed her from her duties immediately. 

It had been a week since Hermione and Draco had spoken. Their only interaction being the longing glares passed between each other in potions class. They went unnoticed by any of her classmates and things carried on as usual with Ron and Hermione, apart from the additional attention she offered him in attempt to cease her guilt.

Another ball had been announced, another attempt to distract their pupils from the war threat. Draco thought their attempts to be pathetic. Showering students with fancy events and hope when in reality, they were unprepared, being set up for death. Draco knew what was coming. He knew it was inevitable and knew there was no point in trying to stop it.

It was December 22nd, the day of the ball and Pansy clung to Draco like a lost puppy. She had claimed him publicly as her own a few days prior when she slapped a girl for talking to him in front of half the school. Since then, Draco had been even more isolated than usual: when he sat in the great hall, it was like he had wards around him that anyone was afraid to pass and at least a two metre diameter either side of him, was left bare. Apart from Pansy who, although aware of the surrounding space, perched herself proudly on his lap.

She treated him like a trophy, even with his lack of effort she continued to force him to accompany her everywhere she went, on show for everyone to see and he didn't bother to stop it. It was like he just lost interest in everyone and everything around him, like he knew something no one else did. 

Hermione had relied on her mum to pick and send her a dress. She was faithful in her mum's taste considering how beautiful the last dress had been. She sat on her bed expectantly as Ginny, for once, sat opposite Hermione on her own bed eyeing up her package previously dropped in by her owl.

"You don't have to wait for me you know." Hermione chuckled and Ginny averted her gaze to her friend. "I know but I want to open them together this time." As if on cue, there were a few scattered taps on her window and she swivelled round in her bed abruptly. Her owl was tapping furiously at the window, package gripped between its talons and Hermione unlatched the window. It swung open and the bird quickly dropped the package in her lap and headed off. The encounter was short as always.

She turned back to Ginny after closing her window and the witch was grinning wildly at her, ready to tear into her package. "Lets open them." Ginny said mischievously and Hermione began to unravel the brown wrappings, unlike Ginny who recklessly ripped into her own. They discarded the wrappings on the bed and held their dresses up in front of their faces.

Hermione was speechless, like something trapped her airway and throat altogether. The dress she held up was a dark forest green. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It really was like the world was trying to punish her for being unfaithful. She didn't blame her mum, she was a muggle and very uncultured on Hogwarts, including the house colours.

The dress was slim fitted at the top and glided outwards softly at the waist, created waves near the bottom due to the excess amount of fabric used in the skirt. To top it off, her mum had given her silver heals. She didn't want to imagine Ron's expression when she walked through the door wearing Slytherins house colours, as if he hadn't been suspicious enough. Hermione didn't plan on a repeat of the last ball's events.

She had been so consumed in her thoughts, Hermione hadn't noticed Ginny staring wide eyed at her from her bed. "Hermione I-" a grin began to grow on her face and Hermione immediately cut her off. "Don't." After a short pause they both began to giggle, dropping the dresses onto their laps.

The process of getting ready was almost the exact same as last time, excluding the constant feeling of dread heavy in Hermione's stomach. The two witches stood next to each other in the mirror, Ginny admiring her work. She had put Hermione's hair into two plaits that twisted back into a bun, two framing pieces of hair hugging the side of her face.

As Hermione stepped forward, her dress parted, exposing her leg through a high slit in the side of the dress she hadn't noticed at first glance. It climbed up to the breach of her thigh, just avoiding exhibiting her underwear, which matched her dress. She grew hot and her cheeks red as she quickly stepped back, concealing her leg. Ginny's jaw was dropped wide open in a smile. Hermione shot her a glance and she disguised her face quickly, neutralising her features and redirecting her eyes to the clock.

"We can't be late again. The boys are already waiting." Ginny grabbed her hand and hurriedly scuttled out of the dorm, dragging Hermione behind her. Hermione would never understand why Ron and Harry couldn't just escort them there from the dorms. Perhaps Ginny insisted on a grand entry everytime, though Hermione really didn't need nor want the attention, especially not this time as if there wouldn't already be enough talk.

Once again, the halls were bitterly cold, she felt as though they were taunting her but Ginny payed no attention to the cold and quickly sauntered towards the music. It grew louder and Hermione swore she could feel the light vibrations under her feet as the two grand doors emerged from around the corner. The music hand paused but as the gained footing at the top of the stairs, it began again. An elegant sort of song. Ginny spotted Harry in the crowd and rushed towards him, stumbling aimlessly down the stairs. Ron spun around, as did many others.

Hermione stood nervously alone at the crown of the staircase. Her dress gracefully draped over her legs and Ron eyed her with a smile. She had noticed the slight falter in his facade, disappointment distorting his features slightly. He was clearly not as gifted at it as Malfoy was.

She looked around the room, multiple sets of eyes watched her, intrigued. Griffindor's princess in green was a sight many people had not expected to see, most of all he hadn't. Hermione and Draco's eyes fused with each other and neither bothered to break the contact. His face was blank as usual. She began to walk, both of their eyes still locked onto one another's. As she stepped, her leg slid out from beneath the layers of fabric and Draco's breath hitched. Her thigh appeared first and then below her knee and her shoes in which he immediately eyed. She was dressed entirely in his colours.

Hermione ripped her eyes away from Draco to abstain raising any suspicion from Ron and Draco cleared his throat, staring back at Pansy, who , to his irritation, hadn't stopped talking. He drowned out her words, watching her neck carefully as it vibrated and moved in time with her speech. He thought about how quickly he could stop her from ever making a sound again. He grinned at the idea.

Ron held out his hand for Hermione and she placed hers on top, curtsying as she did. He bowed. "You look," His fake expression gave in again. "Beautiful." He smiled. Hermione wasn't sure how sincere the comment was but under the circumstances, acted unaware. "Thankyou, as do you." She grinned at him, eyeing his dress robes which she would admit weren't as bad as the ones before.

The first hour of the night passed quickly and with ease. Hermione spent it catching up with Ron and Harry. She knew they had concerns about the pending war and reassured them as they explained a few signs they had noticed, indicating that it was approaching. She dismissed them all.

An upbeat song began to play and bodies flooded the dance floor. Ginny grasped Harry's hand, who then reached for Ron, who dragged Hermione and soon enough, they were mixed with at least thirty people in the centre of the room. To Ron's relief, harry and Ginny had parted taken the other side of the room and Ron and Hermione began to dance. At first she was stiff and looked around awkwardly around, way too aware but as the lights became dimmer and the music louder, her body became loose.

She closed her eyes as she swayed her hips, trailing her hands over her body as she dishelved her hair. Ron reached forward, gripped her hips and guided her towards him. They danced closely together, their bodies often colliding. But as Hermione dropped her head in the crook of Ron's neck, Draco watched her intently. They stared at each other, expressionless, just watching one another as they moved breathlessly in their dates arms. Pansy's back was facing Hermione as Ron's faced Draco, just their heads were visible, studying each other from behind their partner.

The music was loud in their ears and Hermione continued to dance. She eyed Draco's hands, firmly gripped around Pansy waist and she looked back up at him. Without hesitation, Hermione glided her hand over Ron's back, resting the other at the back of his neck to tug his hair slightly. She twirled a strand between her fingers. The witch tilted her head to the side, moving closer to her boyfriend's skin so her breath fanned out against it. Draco bit his lip, with hungry eyes, he watched and moved his hand lower so it rested on Pansy's behind. He squeezed. Hermione's heart rate began to accelerate rapidly as she dipped her head, placing light kisses from Ron's ear to his shoulder as she eyed him through her eyelashes. They refused to leave each others gaze.

Draco grabbed Pansy's chin and tilted it upwards. Without hesitation, he connected his lips to hers and Pansy swung her arms over his neck. Hermione flushed, feeling her cheeks glow red with heat. He was still looking at her. His lips moved in sync with Pansy's but he held their gaze, watching through his eyebrows.

She bit her lip harshly, a moment of consideration before guiding her head downwards and joining Ron's mouth with hers. She didn't close her eyes. She watched Draco. They stared at each other intensely as they deepened the kiss with their partners. If either Pansy or Ron were to open their eyes, the two would be caught and yet the possibility never crossed either of their occupied minds. They were living in the moment, thriving and high off the adrenaline.

Draco visciously pushed Pansy away from himself, she continued to dance unfazed. His eyes lingered on Hermione for a few more seconds before he snatched his head around and left left through the door. She was panting as her head tried to register what had just happened. She wondered if she should follow him. "You alright, Hermione?" Ron gently touched her arm and she locked eyes with him. The guilt began to resurface from whatever part of herself she had attempted to hide it in. She had used Ron as a prop.


	8. Eight

The heat from the distant fire sunk deep into Hermione's skin and her cheeks turned a rosy pink. As of late, she hadn't been very busy and found herself with a lot of free time in which she spent mostly at the library. The library was usually vacant, even more so after curfew which is when Hermione strategically decided to visit.

She had been reciting Lord Byron's poems when interrupted by a heavy thud on the opposite side of the bookshelf. Hermione glanced up but the isle was empty, filled only by the delicate sound of her light inhalations. Finally, she huffed as she rose in curiosity and slowly rounded the corner. Malfoy eyed the witch, barely acknowledging her presence as he turned back to his book. The two hadn't spoken for at least two weeks, Christmas had come and gone and it was now mid January. "Granger, I think you're going mad." He said, dampening his middle and ring finger with his tongue as he turned the page.

Hermione didn't reply. She narrowed her eyes and frowned and although he wasn't looking, Draco knew to elaborate as he spoke again. "If you're going to talk to yourself, at least cast a mufliato or actually check you're alone." He mocked her and she scoffed, louder than necessary causing his eyes to flicker towards her.

"I was reciting poetry. Not that it's any of your concern." She folded her arms defensively across her chest, attempting to stand tall and possibly try come off as intimidating. She didn't have much faith it would work. Draco scoffed, shaking his head as he closed his book and dropped it to a pile already splayed out across the floor; that explained the thud. He had created his own tower of discarded books. As he began to walk towards her, Hermione cowered back in attempt to conjure as much distance between them as possible. But Draco walked fast.

"Don't mistake my advice for concern, Granger." His tone was raucous and Hermione swallowed hard as he neared her, eyeing her from head to toe. Her tall stance had failed miserably as she shrunk downwards in response to him, pressing her back into the bookshelf she had backed into. He smirked, resting both arms firmly either side of her head, trapping her between himself. 

He began to close the space between them, dropping his face towards her at an angle she thought perfect to fit hers against. Hermione could sense him smirking as she stood, breathless and still. Their lips brushed.

Hermione pushed him away with such a force, he would've thought to be impaled. The extent of her hands on his chest was so puissant, he was winded and stumbled backwards, frowning and betrayed. "The fuck, Granger." He growled.

"What are we doing?" Hermione said. He swallowed at her boldness. He hadn't expected it and his mask flickered for a faint second before he straightened his posture and returned to his usual blank expression. "We aren't doing anything." He turned his focus to the book shelf he had collided with and he skimmed the titles before sliding one out.

"You know we are." She scoffed as she frowned in disbelieve, all Draco ever seemed to do was deny. Like he didn't know how to face the truth. He opened the aged looking book. Whether or not he was actually reading it, or just distracting himself didn't concern Hermione as she stood reluctant to leave without an answer. "Did you think I was actually going to kiss you?" He snorted, Grinning down at the books stained pages, shaking his head.

"Would I be so wrong if I had?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. She saw his jaw tense as he stayed silent, skimming half-heartedly across the words of the book he gripped so tight his knuckles turned yellow. She grew frustrated, her words strained. "Apposed to that night at the lake, can you blame me?" She said and his breathing became unsteady. He was looking at her now, a straight expression but hints of regret and anger clouded his eyes dangerously.

"What do you want, Granger?" He said but the question was rhetorical. "Do you think we can fall in love and live happily ever after in a cottage somewhere in the countryside? Is that was you think?" Hermione watched his facade begin to fall, the fault was his eyes, after that his mask crumbled easily. Her mouth opened to speak but her words betrayed her and her throat felt increasingly tight.

"You live in a world of fantasies, Granger. You and I, we aren't the same. I will ruin you, turn you more rotten each day until you're just like me. Can't you see I'm saving you?" She didn't speak. "War is approaching and we are on opposite sides; good and bad. It's as simple as that."

Hermione watched her feet as she approached him wearily. She became close enough that she could feel his body heat penetrating through his clothes and her heart fluttered. She touched the back of his hand softly with her fingertips. She was treating him like a skittish horse, as to make no quick movements, afraid of a possible outburst. He closed his hand over hers and she dropped her head into his chest. Draco froze, his steady heartbeat played rhythmically in her ears and it acted almost like a lullaby as her eyes began to close. That was how they stayed until Draco, without a word, dropped her hand and walked out of the door , not so much as a glance back.

In his absence, a wave on loneliness hit her quickly as she stood alone and cold in the library. She wondered about his previous war comment and whether or not he was speaking metaphorically. If he hadn't been, she would have to tell Harry, Ron and alert The Order immediately. Hermione thought on it for a while but decided it was best to disregarded his statement as she quickly realised that talking to Ron and Harry, required her to give an explanation for their encounter.

Draco had talked about himself like a villain, a cruel monster but to Hermione he was just a boy, brought up into an unfortunate situation. He was taught that evil is good from a tender age. That money and blood status is power. Perhaps as soon as his nimble fingers were able to hold a wand, she assumed his father would have intended to waste no time. Her heart stung, his hopeless expression still fresh in her mind as he spoke with such pessimism. Hermione had never confirmed his theory on what she wanted, she didn't quite know herself what the answer to his question was. Yet he explained their differences anyway, that her future would have been ruined before it began had she expected more from him as if he had a fail proof plan already set out to make sure she stayed away, regardless of what she wanted. Just in case.

The next few days were a blur for Hermione. She continued to parade around with Ron, him obviously unaware of her late antics. She had been feeling more empty than usual, whether it was the guilt of her affair that consumed her more and more each day or the now vacant part of her life that was previously reserved for Draco, she didn't know. Nor did she care. Either way there was nothing she could do to change it. Draco speech had replayed in her head a constant loop, haunting her almost.

She faded through the days, sitting in classrooms and pretending to pay attention when her mind was preoccupied, conjuring an opposite reality where there was no good and bad, no different sides. A world with peace. But peace was often achieved by war and you had to think by the end, was all the loss and pain really worth it? Her mind regularly wondered to Malfoy: what he had said, how broken he seemed. All at the adolescent age of sixteen. Hermione was sure she would've fallen apart if roles were reversed. She doubted that was ever even considered an option for Draco: he had a family name to uphold and Hermione didn't want to think of what would become of him if he succeeded. Perhaps like his father.

Hermione enrolled in afternoon walks, usually after curfew when the school was at its most still. She found it growing more difficult to sleep with the worry gnawing at her consciousness. Her feelings for Ron by now, had completely subsided. The more her mind lingered on the curiosity that was Draco Malfoy, the more Ron became insignificant, pushed further back into her subconscious. It only worsened the dread, the fact another man had taken his spot in her brain. She would have to tell Ron soon but for now, she couldn't bare to lose him. Because loosing him, meant losing Harry which meant losing Ginny and soon she would have no one left to leave her. But she only really craved one person.

Draco strolled into potions and nodded at Snape who suspiciously excused him without reason or question. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. She observed him carefully, the way his platinum, lazy hair bounced around his forehead and landed just above his eyebrows as he walked and the way he held himself with such sophistication, although his hands remained deep in his pockets. As he neared her, he quickly glanced down and their eyes met for a split second before he passed her and took his seat at the back desk ; behind Ron and Hermione.

She bit her lip, he had barely acknowledged her. The witch assumed Malfoy planned on ignoring her existence all together, offering her nothing but quick expressionless glances now and then. Enough to keep her interested but, as always, give nothing away. She sighed as Snape's monotone voice vibrated dully through the dense air of the potions classroom. Their classroom. She found her mind somewhere else.

Hermione thought back to her encounters with Draco. From the first ever tutoring session, right to the last. Her body instantly warmed as the memory of their rendezvou resurfaced at the front of her mind and she squeezed her legs shut, Draco was only a few feet behind her. She thought back to the night at the lake, the way he kissed her hungrily, the passion they exchanged but she had used Ron as prop for her own benefit. She would've felt guilty if it wasn't for the sudden pooling in her underwear. She craved the feeling of him grinding eagerly against her again, to see the lust swarming ferociously in his eyes. 

Hermione felt her arm give way from her chin at the abrupt nudge received from Ron and her head fell quickly, she just avoided hitting it on the desk, before she managed to pick it up and observe the class. She stumbled on her words, hesitating to speak as the class watched her. She closed her legs tighter. "I expect you to pay attention in my class, miss Granger. Would you like to share whatever is keeping you from concentrating?" Snape said in a low grumble. She flushed red, eyes pulled wide open, "No. It won't happen again." and as she looked down, she heard Draco tauntingly snigger behind her.

She swivelled around so quickly that she thought she would lose balance and tumble to the ground. But her posture was firm. Draco had an eyebrow quirked upwards, high on his forehead, almost completely submerged by the slight curl of his hair. Hermione bit her lip in thought, eyeing the boy carefully. She began to grin and Malfoy frowned in response but the witch had already spun so she was facing the front again.

He watched the back of her head curiously and expectantly. After a minute or two, he thought to dismiss her and move his gaze back to the front but when she brought her hand out slowly from her lap and placing it swiftly on Ron's thigh, his breathing paused. Ron started at the sudden contact. "Bloody hell, Hermione." He whispered at the witch as she grinned, mischievously back at him. Draco was aware she was watching him from her peripherals and immediately hardened his features so they were crude. Hermione began to move her hand suggestively up her boyfriends leg as he shifted uncontrollably in his seat.

Draco watched. His chest became hot as he attempted to distract himself with the lesson being taught at the front but one small shift from Ron and his attention was quickly dragged back to pair. He breathed heavily, fists clenched so tightly together, his knuckles were practically white. Hermione's hand now rested at the top of Ron's leg and Malfoy felt his blood burning, rapidly racing through his veins as he saw Ron's poor attempt to hide the tent now evident in his trousers. Fucking Weasley.

Draco's nostrils flared uncontrollably, his cheeks no doubt gnawed to bits as he harshly pulled at the skin between his teeth. She seemed to hesitate for a second before placing her hand over Ron's patent bulge. He was convinced he heard Weasley's muffled groan. The shrieking of his chair as he stood gained the attention of the whole class including Hermione who watched him anxiously, regret fresh and apparent in her face.

Draco strutted down the centre of the classroom before turning to Snape, "You'll have to excuse me." As soon as he passed the threshold, he launched his fist toward the rutted wall. As his knuckles collided harshly with the stone, he sucked in a bitter breath sharply through his teeth, feeling the skin split, blood rapidly emerging from the tears. He shook his hand as he stretched out the stiff joints. The sting that struck his bones lingered nearer the apex of his shocked arm and he cradled his limp hand.

Gentle hands wrapped around his elbow and spasming fingers. He flinched, turning to whoever was behind him. Hermione shushed him and smoothed his hair out of his face. He watched her intently, his breathing slowed as he relaxed under her touch. She moved her hand so her thumb was tracing the peak of his cheekbone and after a moment she pulled out her wand. Draco recoiled away from her touch. "Granger, it's fine I can do it myself." Draco reached for his own wand but she spoke over him.  
"Just let me heal you." She said as he paused. After several seconds, he removed his hand from his pocket and she began to flick her wand over the injury.

The skin repaired itself, steadily swarming back together and joining in the middle. There was a snap as his finger jolted back into place and Draco threw his head back as he held in a painful groan. Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Sorry." She said sheepishly and he dismissed her apology. The witch reached around herself and pulled her shoulder bag to the front of her body, in her sight. Malfoy watched in astonishment as the bag consumed half of her arm. He tilted his head like a confused puppy and Hermione smiled to herself before pulling out a few antiseptic wipes.

She took hold of his hand again, smoothing the clean skin gently with her thumb while she used the other to clean him. The first wipe was quickly stained red, and she reached for another. Soon enough, the blood was gone and his hand was good as new. 

Draco pressed his lips into a thin smile while looking anywhere but her. She reached instinctively for his face and cupped one side, studying every contour while smoothing her thumb across his features. She had done this. Fragile people needed to be treated with care and she completely unravelled him. His skin felt like thin silk beneath her finger tips and she admired him. She hadn't been able to before, not like this. Her heart ached, knowing he would be ruined, wasted on war.

He watched her nervously, unfamiliar with the soft caress of another's touch. His mouth was slightly agape and she began to lean closer. She hadn't realised she was closing the gap between them until he began to inch his head forward, gradually tilting it down in order to meet hers. They moved slowly, attempting to savour the moment as long as they could resist each other, their eyes shifting between the others lips and back up again. Draco hesitantly moved his head closer to Hermione's until they were a few inches apart. He tilted his head. Their faces fit against the others like a puzzle, so perfectly slotting together.

Hermione watched his eyes close and she observed him again. He looked serine, his features had softened from his usual intense glare and she smiled to herself before finally closing the distance between them. Their lips pressed lightly together. They were barely making contact but it was enough as they lingered there a while longer. The kiss was innocent and kind,sincere and so different from any of their others. It wasn't lust driven. Draco would have no way of excusing it if he did try.

They pulled apart slowly, hesitantly opening their eyes and peering at each other again.  
"Thankyou." Draco muttered barely louder than a whisper, his breath fanning out across her face as he spoke. She frowned and his eyes became slightly harder again as he moved away from her. "For the healing." He pressed his lips into a line and looked idly around the hall. "Oh, that's okay." Hermione smiled back and swung her bag back around her shoulder so it tapped the bottom of her spine.

"Well, I should-"  
"Of course." Draco rested his hand on the back of his own neck, visibly tugging at his hair.  
She reached the door and smiled once more over her shoulder before stepping inside the room.

Draco began to race through the corridor, a pained look on his face as sweat coated the top of his forehead. His legs ached as his increased speed carried him quickly through the vacant halls, the only sound, his hurried footsteps. The first bathroom he saw, he entered and hurried to the row of taps, turning one on and watching the cold water collect into a puddle cradled in his two hands before bringing it close to his face and splashing it over himself.

"Do you need any assistance?" A voice giggled behind him and he immediately spun around, distressed. "Turn aroundddd." 

Draco began to turn when a chill passed through him from behind and his eyes strung shut. For a moment, he felt empty, more full of sorrow and loneliness than he had ever been before and the feeling tore through his insides like a knife. It felt like what he assumed death would. After a few seconds, the feeling subsided and he opened his eyes. An almost completely white girl stood before him, leant somewhat seductively against the circle of sinks. It wasn't until she reached out her hand that Draco realised her skin was transparent and he waved his foot underneath to prove his theory. "You're a ghost." He returned his gaze back to her face which was now pressed into a frown and her bottom lip was trembling.

She began to sob extensively, snatching her hand back defensively and pouncing upwards, slowly lowering herself into one of the stalls. "I bet you don't want to talk to me now. No one likes Myrtle, Myrtle's a ghost!" Draco stood wide eyed. He had heard about her before, in fifth year. Rumour had it she tried to get with Harry around the time of the Tri Wizard Tournament but Harry could never back up his accusation.

Draco took a step towards the exit but as another sob rung through the dull bathroom he hesitated and paused before sighing and walking over to the parallel rows of bathroom stalls. One was locked and he knocked lightly on it with his newly fixed knuckle. "Go away!" Myrtle sulked and Draco sighed, leaning his head sideways on the door. "I didn't mean to offend you." Her cries slowly subsided and she paused before the door clicked, parting from the lock. Draco quickly retreated his head back as the door swayed open to reveal Myrtle sitting proudly on the toilet seat, legs crossed and her chin in her palm. "Is that supposed to be an apology?" She stayed facing away from him but managed to catch Draco lightly nod his head.

"I've heard about you. Draco. You know, the girls come here often speaking of you," She cooed, rising from the seat and brushing past him as he picked his head up.   
"-highly of course. Although there are a few odd ones who seem to...despise you." She sat against the wall at the end of the lavatory and he followed as he scoffed. "Griffindors I suppose."   
"Mostly." She watched in wonder as he took a seat next to her on the partially damp floor. "Not so many people are as kind to me as you are being now." The ghost watched her lap as she fiddled nervously with her fingers. Draco sighed, watching Myrtle. "They aren't very kind to me either." She snatched her vision up to his face as he smiled reassuringly.

They talked for the rest of the school day, sat on the damp floor of the girls lavatory. Draco hadn't realised how much abuse Myrtle received, he supposed that was the reason for why she was the way she was and she talked about how she died. She mentioned that she had never spoken about it before, how even if she tried, no one would listen. He listened to her and she did the same for him. They just talked.

That night was colder than all the rest. The winds harsher and rain loud and rapid. Hermione tugged her cardigan closer to her body as she strolled through the halls. The wind howled audibly from outside the walls as she cast another 'lumos', brightening the dingy corridor. She never encountered anyone on her after-curfew trips, luckily for her at least half of the professors had taken a leave in fear of the war threat widely talked about between students. She expected it all to be rumours as anything mildly considered serious would've called for an order meeting. But Harry was approaching the end of sixth year and things had been extremely quiet. Too quiet, now Hermione thought of it.

The witch quickly fell to the floor as the building shook vigorously, dust and small pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling, collecting in her hair and stinging her eyes. She clambered to her feet,ripping her wand from her pocket instinctively but she was forced harshly to the floor again. She began to hear screams and an increasing amount of hurried and stressed footsteps on the floor above her. Hermione's mind twisted with confusion and she stood, wand gripped firmly in her hand as she eyed each side of the hallway.

Her heart was beating rapidly and for a moment, she was enveloped in silence. Another explosion hit the castle, closer this time, undoubtedly knocking down a tower as the rumble of tumbling bricks sounded behind her. She darted towards the staircase, blood pumping furiously through her veins as she struggled to breath. Wrenching for air, she rounded the corner. A student was being backed into the wall, unarmed and by what she could make out as a masked silhouette. A devastating flash of emerald green made them disappear for a moment and Hermione watched in horror. As the dots in her vision faded, she gasped and the caster vigorously turned to her and lobbed a hex, she couldn't make out, her way. She leaped out of its path, landing harshly with a thud on the stone floor. She felt slower, rubbing her temples in attempt to cease the effects of the impact. Whoever it was, they had killed the first year. The child had been unarmed and yet they showed no mercy or care. 

She jumped to her feat, racing towards the opposite staircase as fast as her unstable legs would allow. A series of explosions went off in distant parts of the school and her ears rung in pain as she clutched them desperately. Hermione reached the stairs, tripping several times as she attempted to climb them. Her legs felt as though they were ready to give out and her thighs burned. She dammed the castle for being so broad. She reached the top of the stairs.

A smaller boy-ish figure was facing away from her at the other end of the vast hallway, they sported presumably the same mask as the other had, the strap wrapped tightly around the back of their head. Hermione observed them further, disregarding the disguise and looking beneath it. Their hair was a pale yellow. Her breath hitched. Her eyes darted to their right hand. They wore a ring. A serpent ring to be exact and Hermione felt her stomach drop. She almost gagged.

"Draco!" Her voice cracked as she screamed, her throat hoarse and the figure spun around. The same mask as before stared back at her and neither of them moved, nor turned away. Frozen. Chaos bloomed around them and yet the pair were almost serene. Her breathing slowed aswell as her once rapid heart beat. She assumed this was what death felt like. Hopeless and empty.

"'Ello, sweetheart." A middle aged man growled mockingly behind her and she snatched her head around to face him. All the masks were the same, a representation of death and evil and Draco had worn one. 

"Stupefy."

Hermione felt her self reluctantly fade unconscious and she collapsed a heap on the floor.


	9. Nine

Hermione opened her eyes. She saw nothing and blinked several times in case she had actually failed to open her eyes the first time. She wondered for a moment if she was blind. She strained her eyes, squinting hopelessly in front of her. It was as though the space around her didn't exist, not even a pin-point of light to perhaps cast a shadow. Just darkness.

The room was quiet. Too quiet to where the only sound was her blood rushing past her ears. She swore if she tried hard enough, she could hear her lungs filling with air as she inhaled.

The cold began to bite her. She wrapped her arms around herself desperate for warmth, clinging to her waist but her fingers had already began to grow numb and she fumbled with them, eager to feel something.

The witch rubbed her temples, squeezing her eyes shut as her head throbbed painfully. Her body felt as though it was spinning rapidly, every time she blinked, it would switch direction and she wretched with the intensity. She could feel her stomach turning as she leaned between her legs. She gagged uncontrollably. The sour taste of bile rising up her throat. With one more harsh turn she was sick. The foul smell was instant, filtering through her nose and she flinched away. Hermione's throat burned, from either the bile or trauma she wasn't sure. 

It took her five days to move from the spot she had woken up in. Every attempt ended in her unruly shaking, pushing her self further into her corner. But when her stomach began to scream more vigorously at her, she reached out her hands. She placed them on the ground directly in front of her and clambered hesitatingly to her knees. With each movement forward, her throat tightened and she gasped desperately for air. She made contact and smashed her side into the wall, collapsing and panting. That was where she stayed for what she presumed to be a day. Hermione hadn't eaten for nearly a week.

She rose wearily to her feet, her hand pressed up against the wall just so she would know it was still there. The wall was stone, cold and rutted as she spread her hands desperately across it. It was rough as she began to walk, dragging her left side against it, surely ripping her clothes, following each turn with caution and precision. Hermione counted ten steps at each corner, indicating the room was a generous size. On one side, there was a tall barred door, like one you would recognise from a prison. The cold metal stung her hands and she flinched away from it. She searched the room. They hadn't given her any food. Just a small cup of lukewarm water. 

Hermione woke the next few weeks greeted by a small plate left in front of the door. How it got there, she didn't know, nor did she care to find out. She wouldn't have known it was there if it weren't for the smell. Everyday, she felt around the floor, on her hands and knees for the meal provided. On the first morning, she refused to eat, a possible attempt of protest. But her stomach screamed viciously at her until she couldn't stand the pain anymore. She realised she was only punishing herself and for no valid reason. She doubted they would care if she ate at all, that was if they even knew.

It was a consistent ensemble of stale bread and boiled potatoes. They were never hot, presumably another way in which they could deprive her. She was given two cups of water a day. She was living off the bare minimum. Her plate and cup were plastic and she expected the cutlery would be too, had she been given any. A way of cleaning herself would have been considered luxury. Hermione hadn't washed since she was at Hogwarts. An attempt to dehumanise her she supposed. Everything appeared while Hermione was asleep and at irregular times as if to deprive her of anything close to a routine. She had lost all sense of time.

She had become rather good at navigating in the dark. Every time she woke she crawled to the door effortlessly. The same meal had been provided since she had arrived and her stomach yearned for change. But no matter her silent pleas, the food was always the same; bread and potatoes.

She spent her time tracing across the four walls of the room. She had accustomed to the cold and no longer huddled in the corner. The room was never cleaned and she lived accommodated with her own vomit opposite from her. She couldn't see it but the stench was unbearable and sour though it no longer affected her.

She began to solve equations in her head. Staring aimlessly into the unknown as she pondered on unsolvable maths problems. She was certain she was getting better: figuring them out in under three minutes. That or she was going mad.

She woke again and sighed. She wasn't sure how long she had been there: alone, deprived and in darkness. She began to crawl towards the door, guiding herself with her hands as she screened across the floor. Her hands grazed the edge of the usual plate and she sat cross legged next to it. But just as she picked up her cup, the door swung open, screeching as it did so and Hermione attempted to scream as the light pierced past the door and scarred her eyes.

The pain tore through her senses as the water fell to the floor and she cowered back into the furthest corner of the room. Her hands were closed firmly over her eyes as she clawed at the side of her head, whimpering. She would've scorned herself for the pathetic action had she not felt like death. The door was now fully open. She was being approached: spending so much time in darkness caused her to develop further on her other senses and the footsteps rumbled through the floor below her. Rough hands gripped her arms harshly as she attempted to wince away. They tore her arms away from her face and her gutted cry tore through the room like a knife. Her vision split into jagged shards of lights. She struggled to free her arms as she was lifted off the ground. 

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, biting harshly at the skin on her lip. It began to bleed and she felt the thin blood run quickly down her chin. She was being moved. The shadows danced behind her eyelids as she relaxed. Hesitantly, she opened an eye. Then the other. They stung but it was bearable as she took in her surroundings.

She was brought to a large black door and as they stood before it, the two men guarding the door and the two handling her, exchanged nods before the door was unlatched and they slowly fell open. The room was large and Sophisticated, pillars were lined up in parallels across the centre of the room before stopping when they reached the middle. As she was dragged through them, she was sure they were muggles. Dressed in ordinary clothes as they knelt, desperately trying to hold up the second pillar above their head. They were statues of course but their emotions were so real that it struck Hermione in her chest.

The floor was black marble, as was the majority of the rest of the room. She gazed down at the floor, dropping her head so she could see herself in the reflection of the glossy marble. She nearly winced back. She didn't recognise herself. Whoever the girl staring back at Hermione was, it wasn't her. Her hair was so greasy that anyone would think it was wet and it was matted nearer the ends. Her eyes were those of someone dead; cold and distant. A purple crescent clung to her bottom eyelashes, stopped at the same level as halfway down her nose. She hadn't realised she had began breathing heavily, staring at the ghost of herself in despair.

Hermione was tossed to the floor. She landed harshly on her knees, her arms stretched out in front of her quivering body in attempt to support her but they shook with effort. She studied herself. It wasn't just her face that appeared dead. Her skin was stretched thinly across her bones, each joint stuck out. She was sure that if she tried, she would be able to wrap her thumb and middle finger over the thickest part. She grimaced at the thought. She was so pale her skin was almost purple and veins were prominently scattered across the underneath of her arms like spiderwebs. She almost looked opaque. See through. Ghostly. 

"Finally." A voice hissed from the front of the room. Her mind raced. It couldn't be. She kept her eyes lowered. "I've been waiting on our meeting for a while now." His voice was echoed slightly around the room due to its lack of furniture. Hermione didn't speak. The sound of her blood pumping in her ears was unbearable and her heart beat rapidly in her chest, so much she thought it would explode.   
"I expect to be looked at when talking." He was growing visibly agitated.  
"LOOK AT ME, MUDBLOOD."

She snatched her head up to face him, the remnants of his outburst still danced around the room, bouncing from wall to wall. It was. Her throat began to close and she struggled to breathe, her heart pounding in her chest. Voldemort laughed sinisterly and more voices began to join in. She looked around. She hadn't noticed the few people stood around her and she took them all in until she saw one. One with pale yellow hair. Her heavy heart paused. He watched her. She froze. His features were cold and stern. Her mouth fell open and his expression flickered slightly. Draco looked her in the eye, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. His chest began to rise and fall quickly as he watched her helpless with no concern. She felt sick again.

"You see," she turned her head to the front again, "you are just the beginning. But of course I had to prove my earnestness and what better way than to begin my plan with Harry Potters pet." Her body ached with despair at the mention of Harry's name. It had been so long that she had almost forgotten about her old life as well as the people in it. This was her life now, she knew it as soon as she had passed the three months mark. There was no escaping this. "While you've been here, The Order has been distracted. We've been planning our next move for five months." She swallowed. Had she really been there for five months? "I thought you should know how helpful you have been for our movement." The room erupted with sadistic spurts of laughter.

The room grew silent again and she was dismissed.

She was brought to another room and immediately left alone. The door was locked swiftly on the two men's exit. The room was decent sized with a bed against the right wall in the centre of the space. On the opposite side was another door, inside was a bathroom. The room was scarcely decorated, just with the necessary furniture. Her brain turned. Why had she been given a room? Hermione expected to have been tossed back into her previous living area where was deprived of anything slightly humanising and yet here she had it all. Light, a way to wash, furniture.

Then it dawned on her. They were trying to punish her. Not physically but mentally. This was their way of making her feel contempt, comfortable with them. With the enemy. They wanted to make her feel as though by living well and almost in luxury, she was betraying the order. She was to live like one of them. She was to live like a death eater and she was going to enjoy it.

The lock clicked from behind the door and Hermione began to back away. The door slowly opened and shortly Draco entered. His face was stern and un telling as he carried a tray in his hand. On it was a large portion of roast potatoes, steak and an assortment of cooked vegetables. He carried a glass of water in the other hand.

"Get out." Hermione said through her teeth, fists clenched beneath her and he took in a sharp breath. "I'm simply bringing you your dinner." He said calmly, setting it down on the neatly made bed and returning to his place at the door. "Why couldn't someone else bring it?" Her voice was drained as she stood as far away from him as possible.

"Well my mother and father are far too busy to burden themselves with you, so I'm left to do it." He turned around and placed the key in the door. "I'de much prefer one of the men from earlier." She huffed, standing tall and Draco twisted the key before turning back around. "Well I'm afraid the 'men from earlier' only come here when a meeting is being held. As does everyone else. Leaving just my family and me." She turned her gaze to the window, eyeing the broad garden and she looked around her room. "This is Malfoy Manor."

Draco snorted, "took you long enough." He said as he snatched the key out of the hole and slammed the door after him. There was a click and retreating footsteps. Hermione waited for a while before she rushed to her bed and began to eat.

It was much more luxurious than her previous meals and her shrunken stomach stung with the change in palette, preventing her from eating any more.

After she ate, she strolled lazily over to the bathroom. It was a large room, lined with black tiles along the wall and a glossed white floor. She stepped over the threshold, the cold stung her feet as she observed the shower. She began to undress, not bothering to lock the door knowing that if someone wanted to enter, even locked, they could. Lastly, she shrugged off her top and stepped into the cubicle, closing the glass door behind her. She switched on the tap and started as the water began to gush out. It smouldered her skin and she recoiled back into the glass panel. Her skin felt like it was fire and she fumbled desperately with the temperature knob. As she turned it, she realised the heat hadn't gone past mid way. She had gone so long without heat, the feeling had become so foreign it was painful. She showered cold.

She tilted her head back as she ran her fingers along her head, the sensation of the water against her skin was nearly orgasmic. She washed her hair and thoroughly her body before switching off the shower and wrapping herself in a towel. She walked cautiously towards the mirror and began to observe herself. She looked terrible though clean.

Hermione swung the wardrobe doors open and it practically exploded with layers of clothes. She skimmed through them, spacing them apart with her fingers. The majority were dresses and she scoffed. She started to grow agitated until her eyes grazed a tank top and shorts. She wrapped the towel around her head and changed before walking over to the side of her bed and sitting down.

Hermione reached for the hairbrush sat on the dresser. She toyed with it for a while. The witch hadn't seen one of them since she got there and she played with the bristles before sighing and letting down her hair. She attempted to drag it through but it got caught near her shoulders. From there down to her waist, Hermione's hair was a matted mess, no doubt from the neglect. She tried again, ripping the brush free and yanking it downwards but like the time before, it lodged between the tangles.

She scoffed heavily, jumping to her feet and yanking the drawers to her dresser open searching them eagerly. She slammed them shut and headed to the bathroom. She faced the mirror and watched herself for a minute before plummeting her fist into her reflection. Shards of glass clattered off the wall, landing loudly in the sink and Hermione smirked as a she reached for one.She picked the sharpest shard. She levelled it at her collarbones before she began to slice through her hair. Layer by layer, hair fell to the ground and when she was done with the other side, she tucked the piece of glass deeply into pocket. She wasn't sure why she decided to keep it.

She grinned at her new reflection, running her fingers through the new length. It was slightly longer than her shoulders. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had her hair so short it was until she observed her discarded locks on the floor that she realised how long her hair had been. She felt lighter.

The next day, she sat on her bed cross legged and playing w a hairband she had on her wrist. She was dressed in the same clothes from the day before and now that she no hair to cover her front, she suddenly felt more exposed. The thin white fabric was pulled scarcely across her chest and stomach, caressing each curve and leaving hardly anything to the imagination. She dammed whoever filled her wardrobe.

7 o'clock approached quickly and when she heard the door click from behind, she wrapped her arms wearily around her body, hunching over. Draco strolled into the room, tray in hand and key in the other. As he turned his gaze to Hermione, he paused and his mouth parted for a second as he raised his eyebrows. "What?" Hermione said bluntly but he didn't reply. "Is there something you would like to say?" She raised her eyebrows lowering her head and he cleared his throat, opening his mouth and closing it again. He visibly bit his lip. "No." Draco walked over to her and set the tray on the bed. This was the closest they had been to each other and their eyes lingered on each others a little longer than usual. Hermione's breathing became heavier and he leant back up, returning to his original position by the door.

"How did you do it?" He frowned and Hermione looked to the slightly agar bathroom door and the shattered mirror inside. She looked back to Draco. "Cut it." She shrugged. He scoffed before speaking again. "We didn't provide you with anything that could be harmless against yourself or used on someone else."  
She moved her lips in a pout to one side of her mouth as she looked idly around the room. "Smashed a mirror." Draco's eyes widened in horror. "Fucking hell, Granger." He began to walk towards the bathroom. "I'll get Topsy to sort out the mess later." He gazed down at the floor and sighed at the sight of Hermione's discarded locks before leaving the room and locking it behind himself. 

The days dragged on, blurring into one. She watched the world from her window. How the perfectly carved bushes danced with the wind and how the neatly trimmed grass almost looked silky when reflected. The next few days were the same. Every morning she woke to an already prepared meal on her bedside table. It usually consisted of warm oatmeal with honey or a croissant, varying between the days. At mid day an elf would appear with a salad or sandwiches, along with a separate bowel of assorted fruit.

She dreaded every evening. At 7 o'clock sharp, Draco would unlock the door, leave a tray on her bed and leave. She wasn't sure why the elves couldn't do it. Perhaps they were busy preparing the Malfoys their own dinner. She wasn't sure but she doubted Draco would do it willingly so dismissed the thought. They never spoke, just exchanged glances. Of what, she wasn't sure.


	10. Ten

One afternoon, the wind seemed harsher than usual, the sky covered with heavy clouds which casted bleak shadows across the manor grounds. She gazed, head in hands, out of the window. She had done the same thing every day for two weeks and each day was the same. But as she watched the wind batter the bushes and trees, she caught sight of a blonde haired boy heading for the bench at the end of the path. Hermione lifted her chin off her palm and pressed her forehead lightly against the window pane.

The wind played with his hair as it was tossed around messily. Draco sat with his legs spread wide and his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. He brought one hand to his face, curving around his mouth and the other lay behind it. His face glowed orange momentarily as grey smoke spiralled out from behind his hands. He dropped one hand back to his knee as he used the other to pinch the cigarette between his lips and remove it. He exhaled and the smoke billowed out of his nose.

Hermione tilted her head as she watched.

He lifted the stick back to his mouth as he inhaled again. The smoke lingered around him as he toyed with the cigarette between his fingers, watching it slowly burn, collecting ash at the tip before he exhaled again and coating his hands in momental grey.

Soon he flicked the cigarette from between his fingers and it landed softly in the gravel, still smoking. He reached both of his hands into his pockets as he began to retreat back to the manor. Hermione's stomach dropped. Draco was looking directly at her and she backed quickly away from the window and out of sight. She breathed heavily, biting her lip as her legs grew unstable and she stumbled over to her bed. She lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling.

Hermione wondered about The Order, they couldn't have been expecting Voldemort's attack unless she was just failed to be informed. They hadn't discussed much on the war if it was to happen, though when they did, Hermione often left with one less friend than when she went in. Everyone in The Order had the same belief, that love and kindness and good was enough to conquer evil. But it wasn't. They lived in fairytales where no matter the circumstance, good prevailed. Hermione though, she thought realistically and the reality of war was that they would need to fight back just as they were fought against. With dark magic.

Anytime she would bring it up at the meetings, she would be looked at like a mad women. She would never forget Harry's expression when she had first introduced the option of using the dark arts. He looked at her with such disgust and distaste she almost cringed. He didn't speak to her for days after that. Ginny though, she understood Hermione's reasoning and would've almost agreed with her considering Tom almost murdered her in her first year but she still sided with her family, who sided with The Order.

Personally, she thought them all to be delusional. They were setting themselves up for failure, doomed to lose the war before it had even started. 

Hermione headed for the bathroom, discarding her clothes messily on the floor and stepping into the shower. After about fifteen minutes, Hermione unlatched the glass pane and tiptoed across the cold floor. She wrapped her dripping body in a towel, tucking it in at the corner and she shivered as she left the steam filled room. She began to walk towards the wardrobe when she heard the door click and it was pushed open. Draco walked in and she froze. He pushed the door shut and turned around, observing the room when he saw her. His breath hitched in throat, almost choking on the heavy air. His hand threatened to drop the tray.

Draco's eyes raked down her body slowly, the towel was just long enough to cover her and he swallowed hard. It was tightly pressed against her skin, caressing each curve and his mind raced with the images of her before. Of her at Hogwarts. Of their interactions. He cleared his throat before walking over to the bed and setting down the tray carefully.

"You know it's rude to stare." He said walking back to the door. Hermione scoffed.  
"I watch the outside everyday, you just happened to be there this time." She said dismissively.

Draco eyes lowered again and Hermione shifted. "And what do you call that?" She asked, his eyes darted back up to hers and he raised one eyebrow. "I call it observing." 

"No one likes a hypocrite, Malfoy." She said raising both eyebrows. He chuckled, "bugger off, Granger." He left and locked the door. As she heard his retreating footsteps, she sighed, shaking her head while opening her wardrobe.

Some days Hermione recognised the snide, taunting version of Draco she knew from school but other times it was as though he was completely gone. His playfulness completely devoured by cruelty and someone she didn't even recognise took his place. She couldn't distinguish a pattern for his changes in behaviour. They were unpredictable and sudden. 

The following day seemed to drag on longer than the rest and Hermione searched her room for a piece of paper and a pen. She sat in the window sill and began to draw. It wasn't particularly a talent of hers but she wouldn't consider herself terrible. She tapped her pen against the window absentmindedly and that was when Draco appeared wearing his usual black suit as he sat on the same metal bench. He pulled out a cigarette case, matte black with the outline of a snake carved into it. He placed it between his lips lazily as he flicked opened the lighter and shielding it from the wind, set it alight. His features seemed to soften when the auburn glow illuminated his face but it went as quickly as it came and his expression was stern again.

His eyes grazed across her window and she felt her body stiffen. He leant forward on his knees, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, averting her gaze to the page. She steadied her breathing before glancing back. Draco mangled the cigarette underneath his shoe and rose to his feat, straightening out his suit and heading towards the manor's front doors.

She looked back to her page. Draco was the best of his family. She was sure of it. She had never seen him hurt anyone, well severely. He was merely a school bully, messing with first years or winding up Harry. He wasn't a murderer like the rest of the death eaters, he couldn't be. She wouldn't allow herself to believe he was. Hermione knew Draco, better than she would like to admit and underneath his facade was a boy. She wasn't sure if he had acquired the dark mark or not but considering his uniform on the night she was taken, Hermione would assume he did.

He was a boy without a choice, brought up in unfortunate circumstances with no positive role model, no one who would teach him right from wrong. She knew he had looked up to his father from a young age, whether he would admit it didn't matter, Draco did everything he could in order to please his father. Though she wondered now if maybe it was in fear. No child should be scared of their own family and yet that was the key to their success; their constant rising in Voldemort's ranks. The Malfoys feared each other. 

Draco wasn't taught love or trust, he was taught to fend for himself. He was taught that being feared is power, money is power and love or kindness is weakness. He was afraid that by showing how he felt, he would be taken advantage of. Perhaps that was why he constantly wore a mask. A disguise to cover any shred of emotion, anything that made him readable because being unpredictable was power. Being disliked was power. Being feared was power and he had them all.

It must have been engraved into his mind. Draco was feared immensely within the students at Hogwarts. He was disliked and unpredictable and he thrived from it but what had any of it really done for him? It had set him up for an inevitable future of dread and war. He was taught that caring was wrong and therefore he wouldn't. He refused to be seen as vulnerable, always the need to be in control. Maybe that was the reason for how Draco treated Hermione. She made him vulnerable and he wasn't taught how to deal with it, only to avoid it altogether. So it was easier to pretend that nothing ever happened.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Hermione found herself sleeping through most of the day, when watching the manor grounds became repetitive. Hermione hadn't been outside and her body craved fresh air, craved space. The manor grounds were taken advantage of by the Malfoys, the only person she ever saw outside was Draco and he only stayed for a few minutes everyday when he sat on the same metal bench. She wanted to run. Do some sort of exercise. Hermione had become weak, scrawny even.

As she watched the window that evening, a large amount of elves traipsed hurriedly around the grounds. They carried lights and lanterns and ribbons were stuffed into their pockets. At the middle of the garden, at the beginning of the granite path, two were occupied with a large archway made with wire and leaves as the elves by the hedge maze hung lanterns on every tree and strung lights precisely across the hedges. The garden was illuminated with light and elegance and she watched in awe, wondering what it was they were celebrating.

The door clicked and an elf struggled through the door, Hermione rushed to take the tray from it and set it carefully on her dresser as she returned to the flustered elf. "Master is busy today. Topsy brings the Mudblood dinner." Hermione winced as Topsy addressed her. "Thankyou, Topsy." She offered a smile but the elf became visibly more flustered. "Yous shouldn't be thanking me. I just do what master tells me." Topsy was now fidgeting with her finger, Hermione wondered how often she was thanked if she was at all.

"Topsy must be going now." She quickly apparated from Hermione's room with a crack and a flash of blue tinted light. Hermione sighed and walked back over to the window. Groups of people were arriving at the manor as they admired the arch, walking through it. They came in couples, strolling down the path and as the first pair went beyond what the window would allow her to see. She felt vibrations through the wall.

She frowned, climbing down from the window sill and pressing her ear against the floor. It sounded like there was a band as she listened carefully for the instruments; elegant and sophisticated. The voices grew louder as more people entered. She looked at her food and then the door. Then she realised. Topsy had apparated out. Unless she had locked the door when Hermione relieved her of the tray, the door would still be unlocked.

She approached it wearily as though it was a set-up, too good to be true. She pressed her hand on the door handle and inhaled deeply before attempting to turn it. The doorknob rotated and she shut her eyes. She pulled it forward and the door fell open. She froze for a moment until she eyed the key stuck in the other side and the witch wretched it out. She assumed there were multiple versions of the key and she would only be taking Topsy's.

She quickly slammed the door shut and pushed her back against it. Hermione was panting, staring wide eyed. She gazed down and opened her palm. The key was white. For the little time it was in her grip, it left deep indents in her skin and she wondered how hard she squeezed it. She slid it quickly into her pocket.

She sat at the opposite side of the room for nearly an hour, watching the door with narrowed eyes. She needed to leave. It was taunting, scared of the outside when she had craved it for so long. She exhaled sharply and rose to her feet. She searched for her Griffindor courage but came up short. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and headed towards the door.

Hermione wrapped her trembling hands around the knob, it shook in sync with her grip, rattling as she held it. She twisted it and pulled it open. The witch stood back as the door fell completely agape in front of her. She forced her feet forward until she stood cowardly in the threshold, peering around the corners before stepping out. She eyed the row of the doors zig-zagged across the dimly lit hallways. She assumed this was the unused part of the manor, hence why she was put there. She placed her hand on the wall and began to walk steadily to the next door.

The door opened easily and as she peered inside, she frowned. The room was identical to hers. Every detail was the same. She closed the door and walked to the next one, it was the same. She explored at least twenty vacant rooms and other than the sometimes varying bed sheets, they were all the same. She headed down a large spiral staircase located furthest on her wing, the right one and tiptoed hesitantly down them.

The music grew louder as did the laughs and low murmurs of the guests, the further down she stepped and when she reached the bottom, she searched the hall wearily. Hermione had ended up in the large entrance hall, it was lit dimly with one string of lights draped along the banister of the main staircase. Through the main doors she could see the granite path and hedge maze: it was the view from her window.

She wearily observed the room, it was vacant so without a second thought, she raced towards the door. The small shards of granite scratched her bare feet as she ran desperately towards the hedges. She collapsed in the greenery, panting. It had been so long since she had exercised and her body screamed at her as her muscles stung.

She began to crawl timidly through the hedges, pushing her side into the harsh shell of it as it guided her to the main gate. She paused when she couldn't get any closer. Her heart raced and her stomach turned. She would never get as close to this to escaping. The fence that lined the Manor grounds was an endless row of vertical metal bars, they were only visible at close range. Hermione rose warily to her feet as she studied the distance between each bar. She could fit. She was sure she could fit and so she stepped closer, turn to her side and stretched out her arm in attempt to make her body as thin as possible. Her fingertips reached the bar.

She landed painfully flat on her back as she gasped for air. Her throat began to close as the world seemed to be rid of oxygen. Her nerves tingled and her body felt fried as she twitched uncontrollably. Her skin screamed viciously at her, burning from the inside. Her whole spasmed and her vision was black. There's was a piercing crack and Draco dropped to his knees beside her, sliding one hand behind her head in attempt to catch her attention but her eyes seemed absent. 

"Fuck, Granger, you idiot!" He slid his other hand under her legs and she felt herself be lifted into the air before she fell completely unconscious.

When she woke, she saw Draco asleep on the chair in the corner of her room. Her limbs still trembled and her fingers twitched occasionally. She lied on her bed, gazing at the utterly black sky outside her window. She attempted to move her feet but her legs were numb. Hermione slid her hand up her jumper and began tracing a shaking finger from the underwire on her bra downwards. She abruptly stopped when she reached her hips. She couldn't feel anything. Her breaths began to grow quick and panicked.

"Draco." She muttered as her eyes began to blur. He didn't stir. "Draco." Her voice was hushed and croaky, cutting out at each syllable. "Draco." She sobbed. He sat bolt upright and eyed her worryingly as he rose to his feet and rushed over to the side of her bed. "What's wrong?" He frowned as he observed her. "I can't feel my legs." A tear that was clinging to her bottom lashes, spilled over and began to trail slowly down her face.

"Granger, just relax we'll fix it." She nodded as her bottom lip trembled. He lifted a hand to her cheek and wiped the stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. She felt the heat from his skin sink into her and she leaned into the palm of his hand. He lingered there a little while longer, cupping her cheek before he ripped himself away from her and headed for the door. "I'll get a healer to come here tomorrow morning, be ready for eight." Without another word, he left.

The next morning she was abruptly woken by a knock at her room door. She sat bolt up right in bed as the door swung open and a middle aged women strolled in. She carried a briefcase and flawlessly conjured a small table next to where Hermione lay.

"Can you move yourself onto the table?" The woman was brief and direct to the point, seeing no need for introductions. Hermione almost admired her for that, aware that neither of them were there for the social aspect. "I think so." Hermione pushed hard of the bed with her hands and managed to move the top half of her body onto the steady table. Hermione used her arms to drag her legs across the bed. By the time she had laid herself across the table, she was panting breathlessly. She was always told that dead weight was extremely heavy. It was.

The woman flicked her wand lightly and precisely over Hermione, studying Hermione intently as she traced her arm from one end of the table to the other. Her eyes briefly flashed white. Hermione recalled one of the books she read on healing and if she remembered correctly, the woman was performing a full diagnostic . After a minute, the healer dropped her wand to her side and conjured a chair. Hermione sat up.

"You're lucky. If you hadn't cast a Reparifors spell, you could have lost the ability to walk entirely." Hermione frowned to herself, she had been way too broken to move, let alone do magic. "Seems like whatever you tried to pass was swarming with wards. You were shocked." She turned back to Hermione reaching into her bag and pulling out a vial. "Just one drop a day and your legs will return to normal. They will begin to function before you can completely feel them but after a few days everything should return to normal." Hermione took the vial, observing it as the purple liquid swirled hypnotically between the glass.

The healer gathered her things and left. The door didn't click behind her and she yearned to jump out of bed and dash through it, though she knew now she couldn't escape either way. There was a crack and Draco appeared in the corner of the room, hands in his pocket. "The door get boring?" Hermione scoffed. She felt as though he was abusing his power, making sure she knew that he could leave whenever he pleased and she couldn't. Or perhaps he thought that by walking to her room and through the door would have mocked her in her current state.

He dismissed the question, replacing it with his own. "How did you get out of your room?" Hermione swallowed, she refused to tell him she had a key. She cleared her throat. "Topsy left it unlocked." Draco tensed his jaw. "And the key?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "She took it with her." He nodded heading for the door.

"Don't punish her. She seemed flustered, it's not her fault." Draco looked down at the ground for a moment as he paused. Then he left.


	11. Eleven

The liquid sunk into her tongue and she closed her mouth, scrunching her face at the bitterness. It was around mid day and Hermione felt hopeless. All she ever did was was stare out the window and now she had been deprived of that too. She replayed the conversation in her mind, analysing and watching the women's expression as she spoke. She lingered on one sentence in particular.

"If you hadn't cast a Reparifors spell, you could have lost the ability to walk entirely."

Hermione had been almost unconscious, spasming uncontrollably on the floor which left her in no shape to cast a spell such as a healing one. Especially not as precise as it had to have been done to work. The only person capable was Malfoy.

The room was illuminated with a bright blue haze as the sudden crack made Hermione jump, her heart rate spreading up. Topsy entered the room. She seemed more reserved and Hermione observed her. "Master has sent me incase you will be needing anything." She played with her hands as she stuttered worriedly on her words. "A book would be brilliant." Hermione said hopefully and Topsy began to shuffle on her feet. "Mmm Topsy thinks the Mudblood will be allowed a book." The elf disappeared for a few seconds before she returned, reaching out her feeble fingers towards Hermione.

Hermione lightly pinched the spine of he book and Topsy quickly backed away lowering her head. She seemed to be slightly scattered and skittish, faded purple spots littered across her body as she hugged herself with her thin arms. "Well Topsy will be going now." There was another crack and once again, Hermione was alone. She was so lonely. She gazed down at the book, surprised she was allowed it and not expected to paper cut someone to death.

Hermione read until the sky began to dim outside her window and her room grew dark. Her eyes strained, scanning across the words that had become almost impossible to read, bleeding into the pages as the darkness began to swallow it into shadows. 

The door clicked before swinging open. Draco walked in tray resting lightly on his right palm as he clutched the key in the other. She had grown to hate the sound the key made. He backed into the door to close it. "Why are you sat in the dark?" He flicked on the light as he began to approach her. "I can't walk." She said dully as the answer should have been obvious, keeping her eyes glued to the now visible book pages. Draco didn't speak as he set the tray down lightly on the dresser beside Hermione before turning to leave. "Can you call for Topsy?" Draco paused in front the door, hand hovering over the handle for a second before he spun around.

"The elves are preparing my meal." Hermione wasn't surprised that the Malfoy's had more than the standard one elf. "Just tell me what it is you need and I can get it." The thought of using the bathroom under her current state of immobilisation hadn't occurred to Hermione and the thought of Malfoy possibly having to assist her made her stomach turn. She almost felt sorry for herself and she gnawed at her lip. "Granger, spit it out." Draco's voice was harsher now and Hermione's throat felt dry as she attempted to speak. "Can you take me to the bathroom, please?" Her voice cracked as she spoke and Draco's jaw visibly tensed as he averted his gaze to the floor.

He was quiet for a while before he answered. "Okay." He approached her and Hermione felt her stomach twist with anxiety. Neither of them spoke as Draco pulled the duvet off of Hermione and reached down. He slid his right arm under her back and gently cradled the back of her legs with the other. Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around the back of his neck and he picked her up. He smelt of spearmint and he began to carry her towards the bathroom. She had forgotten how tall he was when he ducked his head lower so it nearly met her stomach in order to fit under the door.

Hermione felt hopeless as he paused in front of the toilet. He just stared and she felt sick, tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes. Draco carefully set her down on the seat and immediately looked away. "Call for me, when you're done." He walked out of the room, quickly closing the door after him. Hermione breathed slowly out of her mouth. She tried to shift her weight to a certain side in order to pull down her shorts but she had currently only taken one dose of the potion and her legs were still completely useless.

She swallowed, reaching down and pulling the crotch part of her shorts and underwear to the side. Hermione was used to doing things on her own. She was independent from a young age and now she couldn't use the bathroom by herself. She blamed him. She blamed Draco and she blamed who he was. She let go and the clothing moved back as she reached behind her and pulled the flush.

"Malfoy." She spoke hardly louder than a whisper but the door fell open and he stepped through the threshold. He didn't look at her while she watched him approach her position. Even when he held out his arms to scoop her up, he seemed to stare sternly in front of him. Hermione felt the soft caress of the mattress underneath her as Draco slipped his arms out and headed for the exit.

"Malfoy." She said lightly and he turned to look at her again, stood at the face of the door. "Take the food away." She turned her head away from him, locking them onto the window as the pillow softly cradled her head. "You might want it-"  
"Please, just take it." She heard no movement for a second and wondered if he would simply ignore her request and leave. He walked towards her again, tugging the tray off the dresser and retreating back to the door. "I'll have Topsy regularly check up on you." And with that, he left. The door clicked tauntingly on his way out.

The next day Topsy frequently visited Hermione, providing her with whatever she asked for, as long as seen appropriate. A pile of books had started to gradually loom over her from the bedside dresser, casting a shadow over the top half of her body when the sun shone through the window at a curtain angle. Topsy had agreed to keep her company for a while upon request but at each evening at four o clock, the elf would vanish, apparating abruptly out of the room without warning. The longer she stayed in Hermione's presence, the more purple bruises the witch began to notice scattered across the elf's pale skin, even in Topsy's poor attempt to hide them.

Hermione read until the room grew too dark to see and then she would wait silently for Draco. Each time he would ridicule her in her darkness and it had become routine for him to flip the light on every evening when he brought dinner.

The room was illuminated and Draco stared mockingly at her, judgement fresh in his eyes as he observed the book Hermione gripped tightly in her hands. "I don't know of many people that can read in the dark." He scoffed, a playful grin growing on his lips.  
"I am the smartest witch of my age." Hermione pushed her lips into a thin line, a sort of smile. Draco approached Hermione and she placed the book vigilantly on the top of the growing pile of books. He set the tray down on her lap, mindful to quickly pull his hands away before they touched the duvet, causing the tray to fall the last few centimetres to the bed.

"I told you not to hurt her." Draco had made it to the end of her bed when she spoke. He paused for a moment as if at first he was unsure on Hermione's comment. Then he turned.

"She was stupid." His voice was ridden of all emotion.  
"She was flustered." Hermione's voice had rose slightly and she swore she saw Draco wince. Neither of them spoke, watching each other, unsure of what the other would do. Draco was unpredictable. No matter how hard Hermione tried to understand him, she couldn't. She had studied him vigorously, how he acted in certain situations and how he spoke to her but each time it was different, there was no pattern for her to follow. He was a puzzle Hermione wasn't able to solve and it irritated her vastly. She never knew what he was thinking, making it nearly impossible to articulate the correct response. She didn't know how to behave around him.

"You could've gotten hurt. You did get hurt." Hermione watched his jaw tense and relax continuously as he began to breathe slightly heavier. Hermione didn't know how to answer. She didn't blame Topsy for what happened to herself, it was her own fault for thinking it would be as easy as she did. Optimism never got her anywhere.

One couldn't be disappointed if they had never hoped in the first place.

"What happened to me?" Her voice had grown quiet. Draco frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I was fine and then as soon as my hand passed the fence I dropped." She said as he sighed, looking down. "There are wards around the manor. They are customised, I don't know specifically how they work." Draco said sternly.

Hermione wondered on the wards purpose and settings. Perhaps it was against muggle-borns, she had heard of such things before: certain items or places being warded agains against them. Or maybe they were specifically modified to herself. 

Hermione just watched him, she would've expected him to mock her for even attempting to get answers from him.

She sighed. "Please leave." Hermione said calmly. Draco looked down for a while and the room was silent. He nodded and walked out, locking the door quietly behind him. She moved the tray onto the floor and rotated her body so she was on her side. She cradled the pillow with her arm as her other hand cushioned the side of her face. She had taken two out the three doses from the vial and had almost regained full feeling in her legs.

A hard object pressed into the outside of her upper thigh and she frowned as she reached for it, turning her body so she lay flat on her back. She held it up in front of her. Hermione had forgotten that she had taken the key, though it would be of little use now considering she knew she couldn't ever escape. Her hope was shattered and she reminded herself to never have it again. It was a useless emotion. 

Considering how much time Hermione had to waste, she hadn't much thought about The Order or the outside world at all. She was clueless of anything going on on the other side of the walls she was held in. The only other person she saw was Draco and she was glad. Hermione wasn't sure what she would do if it had been Lucius that brought her dinner every evening, she had no doubt that he would spit in it, make her watch and then force it down her throat had she refuse to eat it. In a way she was thankful. Her encounters with Draco were short and easy, neither of them spoke much until recently. Though their previous conversations mainly ran on questions and were short lived.

The longer she was left alone in her prison, the more questions that began piling up inside of her busy mind. She couldn't stand being so oblivious on something she helped to start. Voldemort choosing her had been no coincidence. By taking her hostage, it would've sent a message, a larger one than if he were to take any other muggle born. It showed he were serious and if he was lucky maybe Harry would've acted impulsively or even offered himself up in return of her freedom. She hoped he hadn't but didn't worry too much as she expected Mad Eye would have soon talked sense into him.

Hermione tucked the key deep into the depths of her messy dresser. If anyone were to go looking for it, they would never think it to be hidden in such an ordinary spot.

Hermione woke to a myriad of gently tugs of her jumper. She jumped upwards and stood defensively next to her bed, eyes wide and alert. Topsy stood, frail, in front of her.  
"Topsy did not mean to startle The Mudblood." The elf shuffled, holding a plate up to Hermione. It reached short of her neck. "It is midday and I have made lunch." Hermione relaxed her severely tensed shoulders, rolling them once before taking the plate delicately from Topsy's nimble fingers.

She sat on the un-made bed, suddenly realising that she had previously been standing.  
"Topsy I was standing!" Hermione exclaimed, clutching her sandwich tighter than intended. Topsy frowned, "yes." She said bluntly as she moved timidly away from the excited witch. Hermione sprung to her feet and exhaled through her mouth before taking on unsteady step forward. She wobbled slightly but remained standing. Relief coursed rapidly through her system. She no longer felt so hopeless.

Hermione took advantage of her recovery, walking aimlessly around her room, pen and paper in hand as she counted almost everything she could see. She started at the window, using a tally and jotting down one line for each section of the window. Then she looked beyond the glass, counting each turn of the maze and the number of hedges lined up along the gravel path and then how many steps it took Draco to reach the same black, metal bench he would sit on each day.

She had began to sketch the Manor grounds and then eventually, when she had exhausted the scenery outside, Hermione began to draw how she expected the front of the manor to look like. She had only ever been outside once and foolishly, she kept her eyes low and kept herself hidden. She hadn't observed the manor like she should've, hadn't engraved the path she had taken in her brain. She just remembered the viridescent hedges she had pressed her back so tightly against. Hermione quickly shut her eyes, steadying her breathing. The past few days she had tried to forget about the whole experience.

By the time it was dark, Hermione had used over twenty pieces of paper and they were sprawled messily over the floor. Her neck had grown stiff and ached as she slid herself off the window sill, stretching her back as she reached towards the ceiling. The door clicked and Hermione dropped herself harshly to the floor, scrambling hurriedly as she dragged each piece of parchment into a pile before stuffing it under her arm.

Her knees tingled as she rose, it could've been due to her abrupt collision with the floor or her recent, ongoing recovery. She exhaled sharply through her nose before twisting herself around. Draco was stood in the doorframe. She observed him but his features were impossible to read. He turned to place the meal down on her dresser and as he did so, a flash of purple caused Hermione to frown.

A purple ring outlined the rim of his eye and she began to walk towards him, concern clear on her features but as she reached the bed, the door had closed and Draco had left. It was their briefest encounter yet, even his face was indecipherable like it had always use to be. She strolled over to her bed and got to her knees. She pressed the palm of her empty hand on the floor and stuffed the drawings underneath the bed before sitting down on the surface. The mattress dipped, adjusting to the contours of her body and she slid the plate off the dresser.

It landed neatly in her lap and she began to eat. Since she had been at the manor, Hermione hadn't finished one of her meals. Her stomach was often too knotted with anxiety or her mind too active and overwhelmed. The food always felt too thick to swallow, catching in her throat and causing her to often leave all her meals half eaten. Hermione never felt as though what she swallowed never reached her stomach, the witch constantly felt empty and there was nothing she could do to help it. She ended up leaving just over half of her meal behind as she headed for the shower, the image of Draco's current state too fresh in her mind.

The water hit her shoulders and chest, gliding with elegance down her skin as steam began to rise from below her, misting up the cubicle and fogging the glass. Hermione's mind wondered, she yearned for any type of understanding of the circumstances of the outside. Malfoy was the only connection she had, though the chances were reasonably slim that he would offer her any information. He was also the closest she had to her old life. The life she craved. What she so desperately wanted back.

She wondered what extents Draco was prepared to go to in order to please Voldemort. She wasn't entirely sure whether his allegiance was due to fear or purely belief and loyalty. He was brought up to believe in all the ridiculous stereotypes, taught from a young age of his supposed supremacy. But people could change. Sirius Black was living proof. Hermione bit her lip and rephrased her thought. Sirius Black was proof.

Sirius was a rebel and therefore by nature was disposed to think differently than others. He didn't believe in pure-blood supremacy, purely because his relatives did. Later on of course, he had developed more rationalised reasons for what he stood for but his tendencies to rebel had been the spur of his revolution.

Draco had always lived in fear of his father, anyone with eyes could see it. He lived to please his father; his high grades, particular choice of friends. Hermione swallowed. Now he was a death eater, possibly the biggest commitment he would ever make. Draco had practically signed his life away to be apart of something Hermione doubted he fully believed in or he wouldn't have had it not been engraved in his brain. He would die before he disobeyed his father therefore leaving him hopeless for redemption.

She turned the shower off.

The outside lights had just switched off which meant that it was eleven o' clock. Hermione leaned her head against the window and her skin stung with cold. There was no point in attempting to continue the sketch when the reference was now a vast span of darkness. She would attempt to carry on from memory but her wrist ached at the joint and she expanded her hand fully so her palm was open to try relieve the sting.

Her room was dimly lit by a lamp and it reflected in the pane of the glass as Hermione watched, striving to see past the glass strongly mirroring the room behind her. The door fell open and Hermione watched the reflection in shock as Draco strolled in.


	12. Twelve

Hermione turned to face him as he kicked the door shut abruptly with the sole of his shoe. "I wasn't sure you'd be awake." Draco said. His expression was overt and his eyes eased as he watched her. "I hardly sleep." Hermione scoffed, toying nervously with the pencil gripped firmly between her fingers. She heard his hesitant footsteps and her head slowly turned to face him, her eyes following after, slightly delayed as if it took more will to look at him. As he slowly approached her, she studied him more, scanning her eyes dubiously across his features. She noticed then his eyes were stained a light shade of red, though they still seemed alert.

"It's eleven o'clock." She said nervously turning her gaze back to her lap.  
"It is." He continued to walk towards her, his steps had become unsteady and his stance seemed fractured. "You already gave me dinner." Hermione laughed slightly, her stomach clenched and it felt as though someone were squeezing her organs. Draco was a few feet in front of her now and she inhaled. The smell of alcohol burned her senses as it lingered around her. He was drunk. "I did." He said.

Neither of the pair spoke for a while. The air was thick with tension as well as the jarring scent of alcohol. Had he been anyone else, it would have been near to impossible to pass his current state as intoxicated but the Draco was always stern, guarded and not to mention he had a routine and as he stood before her, he portrayed none of it. He currently held himself like anyone else would on normal occasion but Draco wasn't ordinary. His constant mask had crumbled, fallen altogether and he was left unguarded and on display. 

After a brief pause, Hermione spoke. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Draco hesitated for a second before scoffing. "I don't know." He dropped his head to the floor, shaking it slightly. After a few quiet minutes he spoke. "I didn't mean for this to happen." Draco picked his head up and watched Hermione as his jaw contracted, the muscles dipping smoothly under his cheekbones. Hermione didn't speak, he was being random and she had no experience with him in this condition; she had never been able to observe him in this state. She had seen him drunk before but this was different. Maybe because the circumstances were different. She watched thoughtfully as his throat curved inwards, dipping as he swallowed. "I tried to warn you." His voice had grown almost frail.

He was talking about her imprisonment. Hermione's heart began to beat faster and she snatched her head to face his. "You knew?" She felt as though she was underwater, unable to breath and like the heavy air around her was slowly beginning to crush her. "No! Granger, no." He sighed wearily and she noticed the subtle purple shadows hung under his tired eyes. "I told you I was bad. I wanted you to stay away from me." His voice was desperate and almost apologetic . If it was genuine, she wasn't sure.

"You don't have to be bad." She said softly and he began to bite at his lip before straightening his posture. "If I had a choice, this wouldn't be it." He scoffed as though she wouldn't believe him anyway, like she wouldn't understand. He seemed to compose himself slightly, when she didn't reply. "What's going on outside, Draco?" She said and Draco visibly clenched his jaw and his expression grew shocked.

He laughed. "God, you have no idea, do you?" He shook his head as he turned it to look at her. Theirs eyes met and his face became instantly impassive, as if he remembered who he was talking to. They were silent for a minute and Hermione soon realised he didn't plan on further speaking, she doubted he could tell her even if he wanted to.

"What happened?" Hermione asked after a few seconds of silence and he frowned unknowingly back at her. She turned so her back was now against the window pane and reached her arm hesitantly towards him, half expecting him to swat her hand viciously away but he didn't. Her hand landed softly on his cheek and his eyes bore nervously into hers, they seemed desperate like there was so much he longed to tell her. It rose up inside of him, eager to be released but it caught in his throat like a harsh cough and he swallowed, tearing his eyes away from hers.

"It's nothing, Granger. Leave it." He said defensively but Hermione scoffed.  
"It doesn't seem like nothing." She eyed it more curiously and felt Draco sharply exhale as it fanned out across her exposed arm. She felt his jaw contort under her touch and her blood began pumping faster, she could hear it in her ear. "I said leave it." Draco spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes glued to something behind Hermione as he avoided her gaze.

She inhaled softly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth before smoothing over the grotesque knot of purple invading his usual chalky completion with the pad of her thumb. He winced slightly and she halted, resting her thumb at the barely visible split between his bruise and dark circles. She leaned closer, the veins underneath snaked through the discolouration, often crossing paths with the others. The colour was mottled, uneven as it clung to his eye. She snatched her gaze back to his eyes. He was watching her nervously and confused. The silver in his eye had been swallowed by black as his pupil expanded to the extent that, at first glance, it would be mistaken for his natural eye colour. 

As she had been busy observing him, he had taken a subconscious step closer and they were mere inches apart. Draco was inarticulate in Hermione's delicate hold. He could tell she acted with caution: her gentle touch and the way she tried to move predictably. She treated him like a skittish horse and whether she knew he was or not, Draco was aware of it.

"Draco." Hermione spoke softly, aware her voice was unreliable as it threatened to break. "Yes." He mimicked her tone, afraid to shatter the tranquility. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I want to go home." She whispered. 

Hermione's voice cracked and Draco inhaled, blinking several times. For a moment, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure what she had expected from him, she wasn't sure what she wanted him to do, she just felt the need to tell someone even if it was obvious. He took a step back and her arm fell limp at her side. Hermione's mouth was agape as Draco stood warily in front of her. They were both breathing slightly faster as she watched his chest rise and fall. He opened his mouth but no words came out and quickly he closed it again. Something inside Hermione stung and she almost crunched into herself as Draco walked slowly backwards a few steps before turning. He left.

She let out a shaky sigh, sliding off the window sill and trudging over to her bed. Hermione sat on the side of it for a while, analysing the previous encounter. Her head swarmed with questions. Why had he come to see her? Perhaps it was for safety for he knew she was the one person who couldn't hurt him. She had never seen him so disheveled, so unguarded. For the short time he was in her room, he seemed briefly defeated and it wasn't until the end that he had bothered to attempt to revive his facade.

The next few days were painfully consistent. Hermione would sit in the windowsill for hours, sketching whatever she thought beautiful in the cruel world she had been born into. It had become part of her routine to watch Draco on his daily visit to the same black, metal bench. He only ever went once a day and stayed no longer than five minutes. Sometimes he would glance up at her window and they would meet eyes for a few seconds but he quickly looked away. Hermione presumed he had a certain time that he would leave the manor to have a cigarette and she wondered if he was busy.

She wasn't sure what it was he did at the manor all day, Hermione never saw him leave but then again she never saw the manor gates open, they remained closed always. He could just be apparating and she wouldn't know any better. The feeling of obliviousness made Hermione feel helpless. She knew nothing other than what Draco decided she was allowed to know. If one day he was to not show, she would know nothing at all.

She began to wonder what would happen to her if Draco died. She had been extremely grateful that Lucius never payed her a visit during her time there. Now she thought about it, she had never even seen him. She had seen Narcissa when she had been dragged into the large hall, when she had met Voldemort but Hermione was certain that Lucius hadn't been one of the faces amongst the group of people her eyes had strained to take in. Draco's face invaded her mind. How he looked when she saw him, it had originally given her a slight glimmer of hope, though now she realises she was only hurting herself for thinking such a thing.

Hermione had been kept in the manor for months, she saw Draco everyday and he had yet to show her a glimpse of consideration. He wasn't going to help her, he never intended to. Yes, he attempted to avoid it before she was taken, most likely for himself but when it happened, he didn't care. She was stupid to have ever imagined a world where Draco Malfoy was part of the good that fought against evil. He was the evil.

Hermione was woken by the piercing crack of Topsy apparating into her room. Hermione sat upright in her bed, her heart rate slightly increased. The elf's skin had become more predictable, it was less mottled and mainly Ivy. She always kept her head lowered, even to Hermione who she addressed so rudely. Hermione didn't blame her though, she was most likely just following orders.

"Topsy thought the Mudblood might be hungry." The elf shuffled forward and slid the plate onto the dresser before nervously returning to her original position. Hermione offered the elf a smile as he she reached for the plate and pulled it onto her lap.

"Thankyou—"  
Topsy squealed and apparated before Hermione could finish. Hermione often forgot that the Malfoy's elves weren't used to gratitude.

When Hermione had eaten as much as she could, she rose to her feet wondering aimlessly to her wardrobe. As she pulled it open, layers of fabric exploded in her face and she backed away. There were hangers after hangers of luxury dresses and tops, below it, folded neatly in a drawer were jeans and sweaters. She reached for the drawer. She felt as though she were being punished every time she changed. She was probably living in better conditions than any of the Order, if you leave out the part where she is confined to her room.

She scrambled through her dresser, tossing the items aside as she dug to the bottom and pulled out the key. She studied it thoughtfully. The side of the manor her room was in was completely vacant. Hermione had gotten too used to the four walls she lived in. She craved to smell the fresh air.

The witch stood in front of the door. She waited for a while, fiddling with the key nervously in her trembling hands before she managed to gather up the courage to slot it into the lock. She took a deep breath and twisted the key slowly until she heard the familiar click. Her heart rate increased and she felt slightly light headed and her blood pounded rapidly in her ears. The door fell open and she stood frozen in front of it for a while. Worst case scenario, they would use the cruciatus on her. She was far too valuable to kill.

Hermione stepped timidly over the threshold, checking both sides of the hallway before fully stepping out of her room and locking the door after her. She held her hand lightly against the wall, dragging it along as she began to walk. She didn't go far, afraid she would have gotten lost. Some of it seemed vaguely familiar from when she had attempted to apparate.

When she finally retreated to her room, it was dark. She had counted thirty-four windows on her travels and went down around twenty steps altogether. Her wing of the manor was completely desolate, not to mention it was extremely large. It made her think how big the manor was altogether considering they had enough space to completely vacate one whole side.

She dropped the key into her dresser when the door clicked. She slammed the drawer shut, snatching her head to the door and her eyes were wide and alarmed. Draco stood in the door way, an eyebrow quirked. She studied him, his eye had become sallow over the days and the bruise had almost completely vanished into his skin tone. Hermione swallowed, straightening her back in attempt to not look guilty. He narrowed his eyes at her dubiously, walking towards her. He stood for a few seconds in front of her before sliding the meal leisurely past her arm and onto the dresser.

He took a few steps back before studying her and opening his mouth to speak. "I'm going to train you in combat." Draco said casually and Hermione frowned back at him as she squinted her eyes. "What do you mean?" She said firmly. Draco swallowed as a slight look of hesitation flashed across his features but didn't allow his facade to falter. "The Dark Lord has requested that you fight," Hermione waited for his next words like her life depended on it. "On our side."

Her mind lingered on each word, she felt the harsh burn of bile as it began to crawl so far up her throat that she could taste the sour edge of it and she felt weak in her knees. "You— want me to fight against The Order?" She already knew the answer to her question but she hoped he would tell her that she had misunderstood and they would never make her do such a thing. "Not me personally. But yes." He said casually.

Hermione began to tremble. He spoke with such ease as though what he was telling her was hardly important, though to him, it wasn't. She began to breathe heavily, her throat felt tighter and she concentrated solely on Draco. She wondered if they would attempt to evangelise her, brainwash her into willingly changing allegiance. They would have to kill her before she would betray her friends in such a way.

"No." She said firmly and Draco sighed, he had most likely expected her reaction as he began to speak again. "It isn't a request, Granger." His expression was stern as he spoke in a monotone voice. Hermione inhaled slowly before she spoke again. "I would sooner die." She said. Draco scoffed. "It wouldn't be you dying for it." Dread began to build up inside Hermione and Draco continued. "Your parents weren't hard to find. From what we can tell, they aren't even aware that you're missing. They aren't aware of anything." It was as though he had rehearsed his words multiple times before he spoke them to her, critiquing them to sound as casual as possible. He phrased his words particularly, he wasn't direct but his point was easily understood.

"You're threatening me?" She snorted. She had never predicted Voldemort would do something so cruelly clever. It put her on edge that him and Draco shared the same trait of unpredictability. Draco sighed again. "The dark lord is the one in command. I simply follow orders."

Hermione laughed as she shook her head. "Can you not make decisions for yourself, Draco?" She watched as his eyes grew hard and his jaw began to tense. "You're pathetic." She spat at him and his nostrils began to flare at the quickened rate of his breathing. He turned for the door, tugging it open. "I'll come at nine." He slammed the door after himself.

Her knees buckled and she collapsed messily on her bed behind her. She fell asleep to the image of herself faced with Harry, Ron stood defensively beside him as she stood amongst murderers.

The whole next day she had spent submerged in her thoughts. Her mind raced with possibilities: were they going provide her with a wand? During her time at the manor, she had never shown a hint of cooperation. In fact, she constantly expressed her distaste for them all and it would be stupid on their behalf to trust her.

But there was a war. Whether they intended her to know that, she wasn't sure but sooner or later she would've asked questions and considering she was to be put in the middle of a battlefield, her finding out was inevitable. It was the first piece of information she had received since she had gotten there. The first insight she had on the outside world.

She rummaged through her dresser and pulled out the key. Hermione planned on getting familiar with her side of the manor Incase she ever did find a way to apparate without potentially killing herself. She pressed her ear against the door for a minute before slotting the key in and stepping back as it opened. She locked it after herself and began to walk down the hall, counting the doors as she passed.

One, She could just get herself killed on the battle field.

Two, she could just kill herself.

Three, what if she fought back against the Death Eaters?

Their plan had endless flaws, she came up with multiple issues. Then she thought, she could use their own plan against them. If they really were just going to drop her straight into a battlefield, she could easily escape. All she would have to do was find someone from the Order. She would use Voldemort's own teachings against him, pretend to be loyal enough to gain a slither of trust and cooperate, just to switch sides.

But Voldemort wasn't stupid. He was cruelly clever and he couldn't expect her to change sides willingly. There had to be more to it.

Hermione came to a large door. It was solid wood and had no window. She had her hand hovered steadily over the doorknob when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She jumped behind a pillar, pushing her back against the concrete at a such a force, she wouldn't be surprised if it toppled over. The unmistakable echo of heels ricocheted off the walls and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as they neared.

Then there was silence and Hermione slowly relaxed her features which had been pressed firmly into a frown along with a scrunched nose. There was a click followed by an ear piercing shriek as the door reluctantly opened. She quickly stuck out her head, catching a glimpse of the person before the door had shut behind them.

It was a tall brunette women. She held herself in an almost aristocratic way, perfect posture and from the angle of the woman's head, Hermione could tell her chin was slightly raised. She sported a tight black skirt, black tights underneath which led to a pair of shiny black heals. Hermione reckoned that if she looked hard enough, the shoes would be so glossy that her reflection would be mirrored in them. The underside of the shoes were crimson red, it looked as though she had walked through a battlefield.

When she arrived back at her room she quickly hid the key safely in her dresser, removing the mount of items just to pile them back in when the key was sitting at the bottom. She slammed it shut, dropping her head defeatedly down as her hands lingered on the drawer for a few moment longer. She released a shaky breath and headed to the bathroom.

The mirror she shattered had been replaced and she watched herself. They shouldn't have assumed she wanted a new one, Hermione avoided it every time she passed. She refused to acknowledge the person who looked back at her, refused to believe it was her. It was a shell of a girl she once knew. 

Her skin was deathly pale, so much you would've thought she was transparent. If her heart would stop beating, she was adamant she could convince anyone that she had been dead for weeks. She wouldn't even have to try. Hermione was surprised she wasn't visibly decaying, though inside she wasn't quite sure. She began to undress.

She studied herself, she really was just skin and bones. She had always been slightly scrawny, ever since she was young, but now— she looked dreadful. They fed her well enough, regularly and provided her with the nutrition needed but she could never seem to finish a meal. She tried to force it down but her stomach would never allow it, threatening to bring it back up before she even swallowed. Even with all the luxuries Hermione was provided with, they were still torturing her mentally.

She assumed the Order would think she's dead. Harry, Ron, Ginny, they would all think she was dead. She had been gone for so long that it most likely would've been assumed. They would've stopped looking for her long ago, if they had even started. They would all be mourning her. 

She almost felt guilty for still being alive.

Hermione hoped Harry didn't blame himself. Most people would've said this was his war and due to her relationship with him, she had been taken as a punishment. Voldemort would've expected it to cause him to crumble, possibly even surrender but she assumed he hadn't considering she was still there. She probably owed that to Remus.

Remus had been there for Harry, he treated him like a son and considering Harry had no family left, they bonded immediately. Siruis' death had broken Harry but Remus picked up the pieces and put him back together. Not Hermione, not Ron. Remus. And in a way, the order owed him. Harry was the backbone of the resistance, when people thought of safety and hope, they thought of Harry: The Boy Who Lived. Of course Harry didnt have any real control over the Order, Kingsley Shacklebolt was the one in charge. Harry was the face of the Order. How he looked mattered. 

She sighed before stepping into the shower and lazily turning it on.


	13. Thirteen

Hermione left a small trail of water across the floor from where she left the shower. Her hair was slicked back and behind her ears, leaving no trace of her usual natural curls. Water droplets clung to the tips of her hair, falling with every step she took.

As she passed the mirror she kept her head low and her eyes distracted, leaving the bathroom and heading to her wardrobe.

As she lifted her head she saw a small trail of steam rising from behind the bed poster and she began to walk towards the source. There was a plate of steaming food sat neatly on her dresser. Draco had already came.

She clung to the towel wrapped tightly around herself and fiddled with a loose thread. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful that she had missed him. It almost made the anticipation worse considering she wasn't able to prepare or specifically ask if she should wear anything in particular.

She stabbed her fork into a slice of steak and slowly brought it to her mouth. Her stomach turned and twisted with endless amounts of anxiety and her chest felt almost hollow. She swallowed the buildup of saliva in her throat. She was so hungry, eagerly watching the meat hovering steadily in front of her face. The smell filtered into her nose and she quickly pushed the fork into her mouth.

Her mouth instantly salivated. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten steak and she was certain this was the best she had ever had which didn't come as a shock to her considering she was eating at Malfoy standards. 

She chewed until it had mostly turned into a thick paste and swallowed. It went down easier than the other times she had attempted to eat with such anxiety but as it reached her stomach, it stirred. She felt the knot tighten as the food sat awkwardly on top of it and sighed heavily in defeat before dropping her fork back onto the plate and pushing it away from her. 

She tiredly rose to her feet, strolling wearily towards her wardrobe and studying the contents deeply. She sighed, digging deep and reaching for a shirt and jeans. They looked awfully similar to muggle clothing which was most likely why they were hidden so far down and towards the back opposed to all the dresses displayed lavishly at the front.

After she had changed, she searched her room, finding a piece of parchment and a pencil and then traipsing toward the window. The streetlamps outside illuminated the manor grounds, mimicking the moon but slightly more golden. She twisted the pencil in her hands thoughtfully and allowed her head to roll to the side and rest against the glass.

The lights almost chiselled down the hardness of the Manor, softening each corner and grazing lightly over every jut of the hedges. Everything looked golden.

The gravel path was like a blurry sea of orange, the harshness of the stones all blending into one stream of light as it stretched out and reached the end of the grounds. She followed it casually with her eyes.

She lifted her head from the window and twirled the pencil in her fingers before eyeing her paper and beginning to draw. She gripped the pencil lightly as close to the bottom as she could in order to gain as much control over it as she saw possible. The soft caress of the pencil on paper broke the silence of her room and her arms prickled with goosebumps. 

Every so often, her eyes would flick up to the view beyond window. They never lingered and as soon as she was content that she had studied the view thoroughly enough, she brung her eyes back to the paper and began slowly moving her wrist again.

For the next few hours, she drew. A growing ache had come over her hand as she dropped the pencil to her lap and began lightly shaking her hand, relaxing it so her tensing in her wrist would ease. Light and dark filled the page, her pencil strokes often visible where she hadn't properly smudged.

She turned her hand over palm upwards as she observed it. The tips of her index and middle finger were a dark grey, reflecting silver as she turned her hand curiously in the dim light. It was accompanied by a small dent pushed into her ring finger wher the pencil had been. Unlike most, Hermione held her middle finger above the pencil instead of below, side by side with her index. She believed it gave her more control and precision. 

She slid off the window ledge, stretching her neck and back, and headed for the bathroom. She didn't bother switching on the light. She hadn't used the one in the bathroom since she had been there. Perhaps she thought that by adding extra light, her reflection would appear worse or possibly make it harder not to meet her own eyes in the mirror as she passed it.

She kept her head lowered and her sight in line with the sink. She turned the knob and elegantly, a stream of water flowed out of the tap. She turned it further in order to disrupt the streamline flow, watching it begin to gush out rapidly and uneven. Her hands rose to her hips and she moved them forward in order to reach the water.

The temperature was searing and a harsh sting came over her hand. Quickly, she retched it back so it hit her stomach while she hissed through her teeth. She turned the tap and the sound retracted to nothing. Her room was silent again and she sighed walking back over the threshold, hand slightly cradled above her navel.

As she passed the doorframe, the door clicked and her head darted in its direction. Draco stepped casually into the room and the lock clicked behind him. She quickly dropped her hand to her side and he stood steadily opposite her.

He was dressed in all black. A tight black shirt was wrapped snuggly around his body, clinging to every dip in his stomach and rise in his arm before it disappeared under his trousers. They hung loosely around his lower waist where the shirt was tucked in and travelled far down to his shoes. They weren't tight nor baggy.

A cloak was laced around his neck, before becoming a large sheet of black as it expanded widely beyond his back. He left it on.

The distance between them was large but not enough. His eyes flickered to the barely touched plate on her dresser before quickly returning to her. He began to close the distance and she tensed her jaw walking towards him. They met in the middle.

"Not hungry, Granger?" His eyes were still and impassive, slightly hooded as he raised his eyebrow. Hermione shook her head and the air quickly became heavy. There was a brief silence before he spoke again.

"The Dark Lord requested you learn basic duelling first." He said as two wands emerged clutched in his hand from his trouser pocket. Her heart rate quickened as he reached a hand towards her, holding the wand out in front. Her eyes flickered upwards to his and he arched his left eyebrow, looking at her. 

Hesitantly, she reached a hand out and closed it around the wand, bracing herself. As she took it, her heart rate spiked. It didn't shock her like she had been expecting. Hermione clutched it tighter, re-adjusting it to a comfortable position before abruptly shooting her arm out in front of her, pointing it at Draco.

Draco raised both his eyebrows before he let out a low chuckle. "Seriously, Granger?" The tip of the wand was a few inches from his chest. Hermione swallowed, steadying her feet as she attempted to ground them further into the floor for better stabilisation. His jaw tensed and his expression turned sour as he stepped forward.

"You won't." The tip of Hermione's wand pressed firmly into Draco's chest but she didn't falter. He was arms length away from her and she began to breathe through her mouth as precaution, just incase his scent was able to travel far enough and reach her nose.

Hermione swallowed, shuffling slightly on her feet as her heart beat faster than she thought possible. He watched her stand nervously in front of him, the tremmers from her hand passing through the wand and vibrating against Draco's sternum.

She gazed downwards, eyeing the wand dangled casually between his fingers. She could tell he had no plan to use it, he wasn't even on guard. 

The corner of Draco's mouth tugged upwards into a grin as he began to chuckle again and she snapped her eyes back up to his face.

"Incarcerous."

Hermione hurried the words quickly out and Draco's expression flickered briefly before returning back to cruel. She frowned. He was still standing and perfectly mobile at that.

She dropped her arm to her side and it collided with her waist as it landed. She almost dropped the wand as she slowly stepped back, warily eyeing Draco's hard expression.

He shook his head as a scoff left his lips. It wasn't a particularly harmful spell but an insult nonetheless. He stepped forward and she backed instinctively away from him, her chest rising and falling at such a fast pace that she was surprised she hadn't fainted.

He stalked towards her until her back hit the wall and she couldn't press herself any further into it. She attempted to suppress her breathing but attempting to control it made her pant even more.

Draco twirled his wand fluently between his fingers before setting it straight and gripping it firmly to such an extent that his knuckles paled. He was a foot away from her and Hermione's head snatched away from his gaze, turning her head to the left and pressing her ear against the wall.

"Look at me." He snarled through his teeth. She bit harshly at her lip, keeping her head stuck to the wall on her left, the roaring of her blood deafening in her ears. "Look at me!" He bellowed. His voice was low and she could've sworn she felt the walls vibrate with either force or fear itself.

Hermione snatched her head forward and her eyes met Draco's sinister glare. He grinned maliciously back at her. He stepped forward again, bringing his wand to her face and resting the tip on her temples as he began to speak. "You see, Granger." He began to slowly drag his wand down the side of her face. His expression murderous.

"Your wand is only capable of casting a simple 'Aguamenti'." He reached her chin and began to drag the tip along the bone tauntingly slow. "Did you really think your escape would just be handed to you on a silver platter?" He snorted, pressing his wand firmly under the centre of her chin.

"My wand however," he jutted his wand sharply upwards, forcing her head to an angle that made her gasp. "could kill you in an instant." There was a brief pause and he seemed to slightly hesitate, observing her thoughtfully. She struggled to swallow at the harsh angle of her head.

He scoffed and quickly removed his wand, dropping his arm to his side before turning around and landing in the centre of the room.

"Come." He said casually, his expression guarded as he waited for her to obey. She swallowed, attempting to slow her breathing, or at least give the impression of it. Her wand trembled between her fingers and slowly, she approached him. 

"I want to see how your aim is." He effortlessly conjured a dummy at the other side of the room and turned back to her. "Aim for the target. When you successfully hit the centre more than five times, I'll move the target to a different spot." He flicked his wand and a layered red circle appeared across the mannequin's chest. "Understand?"

Hermione nodded, observing the mannequin before flicking her wrist in a handle full of smooth motions, some quicker than others. The force of the water would've made the dummy loose balance and topple over had it not been previously stuck to the ground with a spell.

It took her four minutes before Malfoy smoothly sliced his wand through the air and the target moved to the head of the mannequin. She flicked her eyes up, the target was smaller now, the centre of it being between the dummy's eyes. She clenched her jaw as she tried to ignore the growing ache in her wrist and then she set at it again.

By the time she managed to hit the spot for the fourth time, there was a blanket of water swallowing the floor and undoubtedly dripping through the cracks in the floorboards. 

The water on the floor retreated back to the middle before disappearing completely with no trace it was ever there. The room fell silent as Hermione stood slightly out of breath and swaying on her feet as Draco stared at the spot the water had previously occupied.

"You're terrible, Granger." He said as he turned his head back to her. She huffed, biting her lip harshly. "I know." She said bluntly, staring at her feet. Draco moved to her side, holding his arm out in front of himself before quickly flicking his wrist. A small bolt of light appeared from the tip of his wand and the room briefly flashed crimson as it hit the dummy square between the eyes. She winced slightly.

He turned back to face her. "Your hand motions are fine, quite perfect actually but your precision is dreadful. Your wrist is too loose. In duelling, ones wrist must remain tight and the motion must be quick." She frowned and he sighed. "Do it again. Aim between the eyes."

She lifted her arm towards the mannequin, shifting slightly on her feet before grounding them. Her wrist flicked and the water grazed the mannequin's cheek. "The motion must be made within a small roatation. Don't allow you wrist to exceed over a thirty degree angle from your arm. Try again."

Hermione flicked her wrist again and missed the dummy altogether. She clenched her fingers so tightly around the wand that she thought it would snap. Her jaw tensed and she turned back to Draco who was watching her dumbfounded. "Fuck me, Granger. I've never met anyone with worse aim."

They practiced until the early hours of the morning. She would try and then he would demonstrate. He never missed. Each spark landed exactly where it was intended to. She wasn't sure what spells he was using as he was casting non-verbally. Hermione wasn't aware that was a skill he possessed.

Only when the sun started to rise and dimly light up the room did they stop.

"You have six months until the Dark Lord will force you onto the battlefield." Draco said, banishing the mannequin and turning towards the door. As he closed it, his expression somewhat flickered, it was gone as quickly as it came before she could study it. The door clicked and she heard his steady footsteps retreat down the hall.

She slumped to the floor, madly exhausted as she massaged her right wrist in a soft circular motion. She stared curiously at the wand discarded on the floor by her feet. She had never seen a wand with limitations before and her mind turned with the curiosity on how it had been done. She picked it up and studied it further.

Her fingers glided along the wood, tracing the intricate patterns. It was hawthorn. He had let her keep it which meant there was no way it could be dangerous. She studied it more, deducing it had a length of around ten inches and a unicorn hair core.

Perhaps they chose it specifically considering its core. In the case that somehow the wand malfunctioned, it would be almost impossible to cast any spells considered dark.

She tucked the wand safely into her dresser, it was most likely the only partially pure thing in the manor.

When she opened her wardrobe, the rows of dresses stared at her. She wasn't sure why they had provided her with so many. The only time she had ever bothered to wear one was for the school balls. Other than that, she lived in simple jeans and a hoodie.

She slipped her leg one by one through the end of her jeans, tugging slightly at the end to wretch her foot out. She eyed the shelves as she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, it was slightly damp with sweat and she wondered why she had even bothered with showering beforehand.

She removed a pair of shorts from deep in the wardrobe along with a plain black vest and wearily put them on. She discarded her old clothes by the bathroom door, knowing that by the morning, they would be gone. She wasn't sure if they were aware she knew but when Hermione slept the elves would do a full sweep of her room, hence why she attempted to hide everything so thoroughly. 

Hermione lied in her bed, wondering when Draco had become such a skilled caster. His wrist movement was flawless and practiced. When he wasn't casting non verbal spells, the words rolled off his tongue so naturally and with such ease that he sounded almost Latin.

Throughout all her years at Hogwarts, Hermione had never noticed how well he could duel. She'd never particularly seen it but with the level of skill he possessed, she would've thought it would've been talked about.

She wished she didn't hate him. He was the only person she ever got to see and they seemed to despise each other. She tried to remind herself of the night he stumbled drunkly into her room, the conversation they had; one of the only real conversations she had ever shared with him. He had no choice. He wasn't keeping her in his home because he wanted to. He had to.

But did he have be so cruel to her?

Hermione feared him and she supposed he would be glad to hear it. Perhaps it would make him feel powerful. Their shared moments from Hogwarts seemed like a fever dream to her. So unrealistic she almost dismissed it as something she had made up in her mind.

She was sure he had certainly forgotten it.

If she had just listened to him. Draco had told her about the war and yet she dismissed it for a metaphor of some sort. Sometimes, she dug too deep into things, looking for answers that were so clearly on the surface but she refused to believe of something ever being straight forward or easy. 

Six months.

Hermione had six months before she was dropped in the centre of a battlefield forced to fight against her friends and everything she stood for and beloved in. She curled slightly into herself, wrapping her arms tightly over her legs and bringing them closer to her stomach.

If she couldn't be trusted now, how would they ever trust her in the future? Her mind turned relentlessly due to the question. All she had to do was swap sides and the Order would save her. She would escape and then re-emerge to fight against the very people that held her in Malfoy Manor. Against Draco.

She assumed he often fought. Sometimes, when Draco visited Hermione in the evening, she could practically smell the dark magic dripping off him, though he wore it well. It added to his impassive facade and sometimes even his dark, mysterious clothing.

Hermione stirred relentlessly in her sleep. Turning to a different side every ten minutes. The fact that her room had already been lit up with the sunrise didn't help her either and when Topsy apparated into her room with lunch, she was convinced she had gotten no more than three hours of sleep.

"Is the Mudblood alright?" Topsy asked standing nervously at the end of the bed. Hermione brought the chicken and ham sandwich to her mouth. "I'm just tired." She said before taking a large bite out of it. Topsy paused, her big, round eyes boring into Hermione as she looked up.

Topsy wandered towards her wardrobe, hardly able to reach the handle as she pulled it open. Hermione watched her through her eyelashes as she ate but when Topsy tugged at one of the luxury dresses, she quickly swallowed and spoke. "Not a dress please, Topsy."

The elf seemed to wince slightly at Hermione's mannerisms but released the dress and dug into the drawers level with her height. She blushed slightly when the first drawer she opened was the underwear drawer.

As she waddled back over to the Hermione, she carefully folded a pair of dark blue jeans and placed them neatly on the end of the bed, along with a plain, black jumper. 

"Is the Mudblood needing anything else?" She turned her gaze back to her hands, avoiding Hermione's gaze as she played with a loose thread on the fabric hung around her. "I've read all of the books you gave me, can I have a few more?" Hermione asked, her mouth partially full with bread.

Topsy apparated quickly from the room and when five minutes passed, Hermione assumed she wasn't going to return. She placed the clean plate on the dresser, it was the first meal she had finished.

The room briefly flashed white and Topsy reappeared, a large tower of books stacked in her arms. Hermione quickly jumped up and hurried to the elf's side, taking half the pile before Topsy threatened to topple over. The tower reached up further than her head. Hermione took the rest and stacked them all back neatly on her desk.

"Thankyou, Topsy. Can you—" When Hermione turned around, she found she was talking to herself and Topsy was gone. She sighed eyeing the mountain of finished books huddled in the corner of her room. She expected the elves to have taken them by now but they hadn't and gradually the pile had grown. 

After Hermione changed into Topsy's choice of clothing, she tugged open her dresser and dug to the bottom until she felt the cold burn of the metal key on her fingertips. Before she shut the drawer, Hermione hesitated, eyeing the wand thoughtfully before she grabbed it. She slid it into the waistband of her jeans, tugging her jumper downwards in order to cover it and she shut the dresser.

Hermione was aware that the wand was mostly useless unless she intended on drowning someone but she knew it was there and that comforted her, gave her courage and a feeling of similarity.

As usual, her wing of the manor was completely desolate, the only sound her light footsteps as she slowly made her way down the hall. She wasn't sure if the rest of the manor was as repetitive as her side considering she hadn't ventured further. Each door looked the same, each room was identical and each side was symmetrical like a mirror had been placed in the centre of the hall.

She counted each step as she followed them downwards into a slightly larger corridor, taking a mental note of every turn she had taken and briefly running through the route in her mind for reassurance she hadn't forgotten it. She refused to think about what would happen had she gotten lost and failed to make it back to her room before Draco came.

Perhaps he would crucio her.

She decided not to set limits on what she thought he would do. What he was capable of. That way, she would never be shocked. He was too unpredictable to ever study far enough to understand.

She strolled through the hall, the only sound the soft patter of her bare feet against the marble. Her feet began to sting with the cold and she treaded evidently more lightly in attempt to minimise the contact. She gazed idly around herself, trailing her eyes slowly over the walls and ceiling.

There were no doors or parting hallways. It was just a long, empty corridor. Near the end of the hall, a row of five concrete pillars lined the walls which eventually led to a pair of doors.

She had been there before. She glanced to the pillar on her left where she had hidden from the woman. Hermione glanced behind her, observing the full extent of the hall before turning around and stepping closer to the door. She placed the palm of her hand hesitantly against the wood, pushing slightly against it when she had proved it was safe.

She inched the side of her head towards the door before pressing her ear firmly against it. She stayed there for a while just listening.

After a few minutes of silence she retreated her head, reaching into her Jean pocket as she touched her stomach lightly through her jumper, feeling the shape of the wand beneath her fingertips for comfort with the other hand.

She studied the key curiously, glancing at the lock a few times before reaching her trembling hand forward. She hovered it briefly at the entrance.

She was certain nothing considered remotely important would be kept on her side of the manor. Perhaps it was just another bedroom, similar to hers but on a larger scale.

She pushed it against the key hole and it entered slightly with a click before halting halfway through. She pressed it further and attempted to twist it but they key didn't fit.  
She sighed, tugging the key from the door and sliding it back into her pocket.

Hermione stared at the book in her hand. Her eyes thoroughly scanned the page, studying the words as she passed them but when she reached the end, she realised she had hardly taken any of it in. She found herself having to go over each one multiple times before she was content enough to move on. Even then, she struggled to remember anything she had previously read.

Hermione huffed, slamming the book shut irritably and dropping it to her lap. Her neck ached and she let it fall backwards as she rolled her shoulders.

The manor grounds were hardly visible as the sun sunk bellow one of the hills in the distance. A hazy glow clung to the hedges and layered the floor like a sheet of fog, filtering through the tree branches and past the leaves.

Her head fell to the side and she pressed it against the glass, her breath faintly clouding her vision as it gathered on the window.

A harsh flash of white briefly blinded her. She listened for thunder but it was followed with nothing, just silence. She blinked rapidly, squinting her eyes until her vision returned just enough that she could make out a tall frame of a man stood at the crown of the granite path.

She felt her stomach drop.

Lucius Malfoy was staring blankly up at her. His expression impassive and his eyes stern. His features were carved into his face, every aspect sharp and cruel.

Hermione pushed herself away from the glass, stretching out her legs and quickly landing on the floor. Her heart was racing and she continued to slowly back away from the window, her legs weak and eyes wide as she stared at it.

She took in sharp, ragged breaths. Her ears began to ring as everything became slower. 

Luscious Malfoy; a psychotic, maniac of a man. A former prisoner. A cold blooded killer.

He looked unraveled. His stare was nearly unnerving enough to make her sick.

The door clicked behind her and she quickly spun around, dazed and swaying slightly on her feet. Draco stood in the doorframe, his brows furrowed.

She gasped for air but her throat was tight. It was as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the room and spots began to appear in her vision.

"Granger?" Draco's voice swam through the room as the image of him began to blur, distorting his features to a point she thought he seemed concerned. She blinked slowly, her eyes moving on their own accord and she felt her legs begin to give out.

Draco's eyes grew wide and he paced across the room, catching her as she collapsed.


	14. Fourteen

Hermione's eyes slowly opened as she blinked away the blinding streaks of light until it sunk comfortably to the back of her head. 

"Topsy!" The voice was deep and muffled and Hermione gazed slowly around the room, attempting to pin-point the source of it. Her eyes landed on the door as it closed and she was left alone.

Her head ached but she felt no external pain, only the unwavering throbbing near her temples. She tugged her arm free of the tightly wrapped bed covers and brought it to the side of her head, massaging in rhythmic circles as she gazed around the room for an inkling of what had happened to her.

She found the window and her stomach dropped, her breathing staggering and the sting in her temples growing painfully more present. She saw a pair of cold eyes staring at her , only it was in her mind as the image resurfaced. They had been so similar to Draco's but as she recalled the moment before her unconsciousness, so different.

Lucius' eyes were those of a mad man. Hollow and worn and red rimmed. Icy and cold just like the silver reflected in them. But his eyes were guarded. She suspected there was nothing much to hide behind them anyway, perhaps just the mad ramblings of an old man. But that only made him even less predictable.

They had suffocated her even at such a distance. The amount of panic he had struck upon her using just the intense glare of his empty eyes was dangerous. The fact he already held so much power over her was concerning and if her assumptions about the Malfoy's were right, he would already be thriving off of it.

There was a bright flash of white followed by a crack and Hermione snatched her head to the side of the bed, her heart rate increasing slightly and her nerves prickled in awareness.

Topsy was stood warily by the side of the bed. "The Mudblood should not be alarmed." The elf said as she began tugging at a loose thread on the cloth she wore as clothes. Hermione sank slightly into the mattress, attempting to let go of the tension that clung to her muscles.

"Master has called for Topsy." Hermione frowned, she couldn't recall Draco being in the room when she woke up. "Is the Mudblood needing anything?" Topsy asked fidgeting on her feet.

"What's the time?" Hermione frowned, searching the room for any indication of it but the dark night sky said nothing accept that it was late. "It is being midnight." Topsy said watching the sky briefly, her side eyes reflecting the stars from outside.

"Can you send for Draco?" Hermione asked and Topsy blinked, her head snatching back to Hermione, though she hardly kept her gaze. She wasn't sure why but she wanted to talk to him. Perhaps about his father's return or the reason for his absence in the first place. He wouldn't have even been someone she considered had he not been the only person she was even able to talk to. Although, back in Hogwarts she had never done much talking either and there, the options of people to confide in were endless.

She liked to keep to herself but there was only so much she could hold in.

"Master Draco is busy, Topsy thinks." Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. She supposed she could talk to Topsy but the poor elf couldn't even look at her and Hermione didn't intend to put her through even more torture than what she undoubtedly already endured at the Manor.

"Okay. That will be all then." Hermione smiled and the elf quickly vanished as though she had been on the brink of it ever since she arrived in the room.

Hermione sat absentmindedly on the window sill as she tapped the end of a pencil on the glass. The irritating tap of it, passing through the glass and her head leant against it. It had taken her at least an hour to persuade herself that when she was return to the window, Lucius wouldn't still be there staring up at her with his cold, malicious eyes.

She observed the spot he had stood, where he had apparated to and the image began to slowly move to the front of her mind. She bit down hard against her teeth, her jaw tensing as the muscles around it dipped. She closed her eyes, forcing the disturbing imagine into a deep, far away crevice in her mind.

When she opened them again she allowed herself to further study the grounds, avoiding where Lucius had been.

The manor seemed so open. The gates were only visibly at a certain proximity and from her window all she saw was rolling hills and a blue oasis of sky that had no limit.

It was such a contrast between plains.

The miles of ground that the manor occupied was all an illusion to create the idea of freedom. She pressed her fingers again the glass.

No matter how far she managed to travel, the gates still kept her in. Though not visible, they were there, taunting her in their apparent absence. Providing her with hope which would be shattered as soon as she was close enough to see the black metal bars of her cage.

The door fell open and Hermione snatched her head towards it, observing Draco's broad build as he stepped into the room and ordered the door shut with a casual wave of his hand.

She wondered when he had become so advanced.

Her eyes flicked to his empty hands, hung at his sides and then back up to his face. She turned her gaze back to the view outside the window and the sound of his steps filled the hollow room.

The room remained silent, only her slow breathes filled her ears as it misted up a small circle on the window. She sighed, turning sharply back to face him.

"Do you want something or are you just here to be so kind as to gift me with your company?" Draco eyes flickered with a brief hint of amusement before he hardened his features again.

"Do you need a healer?" He asked, not out of concern, she thought but perhaps decency.  
"No." Hermione said back towards the window, only to watch his reflection in it.

He seemed to relax slightly when her gaze was averted, though he remained mostly impassive.

"Is that all?" She asked, studying the mirror imagine of him in the window as he dropped his head to the floor. She wanted to talk about his father. She wanted to talk to him about anything. Her days were so empty and repetitive and she was beginning to get tired of her most interesting hobby consisting of staring idly out a window.

She turned to look at him but by the time her her eyes reached his, Draco's head was back up, posture composed and his features expressionless.

"That's all." He turned to leave, pausing slightly when he reached the door almost as if he could feel Hermione's subconscious willing him to stay, as though he heard the sliver of hesitation in her previous words that she tried so desperately to hide. Or perhaps he had paused at his own accord.

Either way, he had tugged the door open, stepped through and locked it without a second glance back to the witch held inside.

She watched as the door clicked shut and waited for the familiar sound of Draco's retreating footsteps before she deemed it safe to even think about him. With his new talents, she wouldn't be surprised if he could suddenly read her mind.

She wondered how busy he was, if even at all. What role he played in Voldemort's poisoned army, if any at all. Either way, she doubted Voldemort would have Draco in a high position, no matter how reckless, he was still only a boy and presumably not much of a useful one. Though, his newly acquired skills could prove otherwise. She knew hardly anything about him and yet he could probably guess her whole routine just from his evening visits.

She wanted to know him. She wanted to know what he did when he wasn't supplying her dinner or teaching her to duel. She wanted to know Draco Malfoy. To study him. Almost like a project, something to occupy her empty mind.

That evening Draco didn't come. It had been Topsy who had brought in her meal and Hermione barely had time to speak before she apparated away. And now Hermione waited, tucked tightly against the window as she watched the world outside her. The one she couldn't access.

Hermione hadn't left her room that day due to Draco's off-schedule appearance. She didn't want to risk not being there if he was to come back. He hadn't, which didn't surprise her, but she didn't mind missing her usual walk around the manor. It had become painfully repetitive, much like everything else and each time she ventured to the halls outside of her room, her mind reeled at the other possibilities that lay further than her wing. She couldn't risk the temptation in case, one day, she had grown so bored that she actually gave in.

She was refined to such a large space and yet still she felt trapped.

Hermione watched the door fall open in the dim reflection of the glass and Draco filled the frame. She turned and slid off the window ledge when he shut the door.

She began to walk towards her dresser and Draco watched her warily as she neared him. His gaze relaxed as she turned, positioning herself in front of the drawer and tugging it open.

She reached into the drawer, spreading her hands as she rummaged through. Her breathing faltered as her fingertips grazed the familiar ragged edge of her door key but she quickly moved past it, searching the drawer further before gripping the wand and pulling it out.

She slammed the door shut and headed past Draco again, wrapping her gaunt fingers around the thin wood, brushing the pad of her thumb across the base as she soaked up the familiar feeling of a wand in her hand. Though it wasn't hers and was hardly dangerous, the wood was enough to reassure her.

They stood a few feet apart from each other in the middle of the room.Draco slid his wand from his trouser pocket and let it dangle comfortably between his fingers.

"Topsy brought me dinner today. Why?" She asked sternly, her brows furrowed and he raised one back at her, ripples forming on his forehead around the arch. "I didn't realise you would miss me so much, Granger."

The side of Draco's mouth tugged upwards into a subtle grin and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as quirked a single eyebrow.

"I was busy." He said finally, all expressions fading from his face as corrected his features. "Alright." She shrugged, dropping her eyes down to her wand rolling it between her scrawny fingers. The thin skin hugged the row of bones that made them and she could almost make out ever indent of her skeleton through her Ivy completion.

Her head quickly snapped up. "Can I have a clock?" Draco frowned at the witches request but her expression didn't falter and he sighed, reaching behind his neck, and emerging from under his shirt was a clock face. He took it in palm, chain hanging below it as it slithered free from his neck.

The clock sat comfortably, cradled in his hands as the chain dangled between his fingers. He looked back up to her. "May I ask why?" He said, wrapping his fingers around the time piece until it was fully engulfed by Ivy coloured skin.

"You give me all these times when I don't even have a way to tell it. I prepare myself for duelling straight after dinner because I can't rely on instinct to tell me when the clock strikes nine, especially considering in this room, time isn't exactly a concept to me."

He began to fumble with the clock, his long fingers bending into half their length. After a minute or two he stretched out his hand and she brought hers to his. The time piece dropped neatly into her palm, it was heavier than she expected as she studied the numbers, brushing her thumb over the glass in the same slow rhythm of the moving hand. She tugged her eyes away from the piece and to Draco.

He had removed the chain.

The metal pooled in his cradled palm and he brought it to his neck before clasping the back and tucking the reflective metal under broad collar of his shirt. She offered him a smile which he showed no acknowledgment to.

"Your fathers back." Hermione said after a brief silence. She caught his gaze before he could discard of the small flicker of emotion in his eyes.  
"Yes." He said firmly, his expression guarded once again and with it, came his mask.

His eyes were just as silver as Lucius', if not more but they weren't empty like his fathers. Draco's eyes, even guarded, were deep. They seemed to act like a cage, keeping anyone from seeing past what he decided to allow to be seen.

Though as she studied them more, Hermione knew they would eventually be the fall of his facade.

His eyes were slightly hooded and a cluster of purple hung underneath them in a messy crescent. Small cracks of red ran crookedly through the bright whites of his eyes, growing outwards from the corner but not quite reaching his iris.

"Where has he been?" She asked, fiddling nervously with her wand at the sight of his contorting jaw. He didn't answer, only wave his hand a few inches in front of his face as a figure grew slowly behind him.

Her breath hitched, her heart rate increasing as she stepped warily backwards. Draco frowned at her, taking a few steps towards her and then turning back to the newly conjured dummy.

Hermione let out a shaky breath, her white knuckles loosening on the wand as much as her hand would allow them to as she eyed the lifeless piece of plastic.

"It's plastic, Granger." Draco said matter-of-factly and she scoffed, stepping forward so she was next to him. "I know." She said.

Draco sliced his wand through the air like a dagger and a row of red circles appeared across the mannequins chest. "Four times and then move to the head."

Hermione nodded and steadied her feet, tightening her already bone-crushing grip on the wand as she brought it out steadily in front of her. She attempted to lock her wrist, hopefully restricting her motions within a small range.

She dropped around a minute of time compared to the last attempt, dropping her arm back down to her side to conceal the way she rotated her wrist to ease the aching already over coming it. She wore a small smile, turning back to Draco who already had his eyebrow raised.

"You're still dreadful, Granger." He said and the witches mouth dropped into a flat line, any previous pride vanishing from her features. "Aim again." He ordered and she sulkily outstretched her arm towards the target.

Draco shifted, stepping slightly closer to Hermione and removing his hands from his pockets. She turned to look at him, watching his arm as it rose to the level of hers. Draco's eyes were focussed on closing the distance between their hands, they were close enough to hers that she could feel his magic radiating from his the tips of fingers.

She moved her hand quickly away from his and his eyes flickered up to hers. His silver eyes, so similar to his fathers glinted as she stared warily back at him, eyes slightly wide as her eyebrows lay heavy on top. She tried to conceal the rapid rate of her breathing, steadying her chest as it rose and fell at a vastly quickened pace.

The lump across Draco's throat bobbed as he visibly swallowed, but when she looked back towards his eyes they were focussed on his hand and she followed his gaze. His fingertips grazed her skin.

Her breath hitched. His feather-light touch ran along the back of her hand. He was warmer than she remembered.

He cradled her hand in his and began to guide it slowly into the shape of a spell. When she released the breath she had been subconsciously holding, his grip tightened slightly in order to gain more control over her thin wrist.

He drew a sharp line in the air with her hand, flicking it quickly and sharply whilst holding her wrist firmly in place with his other hand. His grip wasn't firm enough to hurt, but he began to gradually press down harder with every movement.

"Say the spell." He said finally, keeping his eyes away from hers. Perhaps out of fear that if he was to meet her gaze, the moment would suddenly become intimate.

She swallowed, fixing her fingers tightly around her wand as she felt his press harder into her skin. She almost winced as the pressure threatened to become painful.

As soon as the first syllable of the spell fell from her lips, her hand shot quickly to the left in the harsh control of Draco's dense grip. The motion was fast but completely controlled, proved further by the accuracy.

Hermione thought it to be impossible to cast a spell so quick with such precision. The water hit the dummy dead between the eyes and it swayed in reaction. She assumed Draco had subconsciously strengthened the spell will his own magic.

A stinging sensation began to crawl up her arm and she shot her eyes down to her wrist. The skin around Draco's pale hand had turned sallow and she yelped, snatching her arm away and cradling it protectively against her chest.

Even with his touch removed, the pain lingered as though his fingers were still crushing her. Draco staggered back, blinking several times as he observed her bruised wrist. Purple marks the shape of his fingers were scattered in five equal rows across her Ivy skin and she ran a gentle finger over them.

His face sudden,y dropped into a stern facade, turning away from her before ordering again. "Try it by yourself."

When the witch didn't reply nor raise her arm, he craned his neck in her direction. Her eyes were locked on his, narrowed dangerously and the skin around her jaw dipped with the pressure of her bite.

"Now, Granger." He said sternly and she dropped her cradled arm stubbornly to the side, failing to raise it after and disregarding his request.

The room had turned painfully silent and the air inside it so heavy that she could almost feel the pressure of it against her chest and shoulders. Draco bared his teeth dangerously. "Now." His tone was deadly, cutting through the air like a knife and Hermione shivered. With a last shared glance of distaste, the witch rose her arm and cast the spell.

It landed barely off target, hitting the left eye of the mannequin as it wobbled slightly in its place.

"Better." He said.


	15. Fifteen

Over the months, Hermione's wrist became fluent in spell casting. It moved quickly and with such precision that she could've given Draco a run for his money. Though he was still far better, she had only ever used one spell whereas his library of them was endless, each one rolling off his tongue like a purr.

But with only three months left of training, Hermione thought it impossible that she would ever be advanced enough for battle. She didn't attempt to be prepared, nothing could possibly prepare her to face her friends on the wrong side of a battlefield.

She wondered if they would leave her unmasked, possibly to provoke Harry, a blow against the rest of the order too. Hermione Granger; fighting for Voldemort's cause and fighting them. Voldemort would gladly seize the chance to rinse her of any piece of mind she had managed to cling to. She wouldn't allow herself to fall, to crumble in the walls of Malfoy Manor. She was stronger than that.

She clung to the possibility of escaping during the fight. Her parents were the only thing securing her loyalty with Voldemort. His only reassurance that she wouldn't betray them like they had forced her to do to the Order.

She couldn't decide whether she would prefer to be masked and dressed as one of them or left as she was. If she was to go uncovered, they would know she was alive. But they would've seen her as a death eater, uninformed of her circumstances.

Hermione quickly decided she wanted a mask. It would also eliminate the possibility of her presence effecting their focus, no doubt theirs would completely corrupt hers.

Hermione twisted the knob and the water halted , the absence of the warmth causing her to shiver as she stepped past the glass pane and wrapped a towel tightly around herself.

The wind howled through an open vent above her window and her skin prickled as she left the steamy bathroom and now stood in front of her wardrobe, shivering. He tensed her jaw in case it decided to tremble as a whisper of wind grazed her exposed legs.

She tugged the door open. Her distaste for the dresses staring back at her had slightly eased over time, though she hated to admit it and her hand almost reached out for one, flinching before she caught it.

The drawers underneath were not so generous as the rail that held the dresses. Already confided to a small space, the drawer consisted of the same two pairs of jeans and three jumpers. Anyone would think they were trying to strip her of her identity, practically forcing the dresses upon her.

She dragged an outfit that she had already worn twice that week from the wardrobe and slammed it shut.

Once changed, she flipped her head downwards, gathering her hair and ruffling the brown mess between the towel. She scrunched and shook it against her head thoroughly until she was convinced that when she brought her back up it would be mostly dry.

It was. Her crimson face drained as she held her head straight again, the room around her briefly turning black. Her vision returned in blotches until she could somewhat see the window.

She combed through her hair easily. It had been so long and yet she wasnt completely acustommed to hr hair's length, still finding herself slightly surprised when she didn't have to bring the comb as far as her waist, it jerking free when reaching her collarbones.

Her damp hair tickled her shoulders, grazing the sharp line of her collarbone as she set the comb back in her dresser, replacing her now vacant palm with the familiar cold sting of the key.

Her fingers absentmindedly followed the shape of the jagged edges. She found it was colder than usual, most likely from the wind pouring through the open vent above her window. She would have shut it had it not so perfectly replicated the atmosphere outside.

How she craved to venture outside again.

The next time she expected to have that luxury was when she was taken to fight in a few months time and she doubted she would find any time to appreciate it.

She hardly remembered how the rain felt. The usually daunting feeling as the skies grew thick with grey clouds and it began to heavily pour or in calmer times when delicate drops of rain landed on her face and clung to the tips of her pinkish nose. Nor could she remember on harsher days when the weather wasnt so forgiving and bashed around her frail frame; hair tossed harshly around her face as the shards of rain shot into her already bitter skin.

The key effortlessly slidinto the hole in the door and she turned it, pressing her ear agaisnt the surface as she always did, the click of the key still remenicent through the wood. The air consisted of nothing but her steady heartbeat loud in her ear.

Hermione's walks had become part of her routine and it hadn't taken her long to realise that the magority of the time the halls were abadonned. The ony person she had seen on her outings was the sophistocatd frame of a woman. Hermione didnt recognise her, thogh she wasn't given much a chance considring how quickly she had pssed through the double doors.

It was rare that she ever missed one her daily trips around her wing of the mannor and everytime she found herself at the far side, standing infront of the large double doors, almost ingulfed by the contrast of its frame against hers.

As usual, the hallways were empty and Hermione began to count each window she passed, not to remember the route but to ocupy her mind. She found things were easier to forget if she was to simply ignore their existence.

Hermion barely thought about the day where she was to be dropped into a battle field. Part of her was in denial, refusing to acknowledge what awaited her. Though sometimes, she found herself subonciously planning. Perhaps if she was fast enough, The Death Eaters wouldnt expect her change of allegiance. Well, third change of allegiance.

Hermione was small and slim and the Majority of Death Eaters were not. They may be strong but she was fast. 

Still, she would be outnumbered. If she was being honest, the easiest option was suicide. 

Her mind went to her parents. Was it selfish to play a part in the Orders possible defeat just to save them? She would be picking two people over the majority of the wizarding world and two people with no significance to anyone but herself, at that.

Hermione had always liked to think that she was a strong minded individual. That she would go about things with her head and not her heart. But it was easier to say and think things as such, when they were deemed unrealistic and dystopian.

It was something she didnt want to think about and forced the growing mountain of questions into a deep crevasse of her mind. She knew she would have to face them eventually, but as she neared the two doors, she decided now was not the time.

She hadn't particularly meant to end up there but when did she? Her neck craned back, staring up at the dark wood as it stretched far up towards the cieling. Her hand reached for the handle, it rattled briely as she attempted to turn it, but did not give way.

She sighed, dropping to her knees and hesitantly smoothing over the keyhole with the delicate and wary touch of her fingertips. When considered safe, she brought her head to the door, her forehead resting of the cold metal of the handle as she levelled her eye with the hole.

She squinted the other and focussed on the veiw inside. Her vision was limited to the narrow shape of a keyhole but she gazed around a small slither of the room nevertheless.

Rows of tables lined the rough room. It was bigger than she had expected, almost reminiscent of the great hall, only on a smaller scale and turned on its side. The room was still, though if somebody had been in certain corners of the room and submerged in one of the many shadows casted corners, it would have been impossible to know.

The only source of light, that she could see, was an ensemble of candles, all adjacent to eachother on a spiralling chandelier, suspended by the towering cieling.

The tables were lined with tools, reminiscent of weilding tools that she had seen in the muggle world before, often in the hands of her Dad. Though she doubted the Malfoy's would allow such thing into their home.

The room had no resemblance to the manor, like it hadnt been build with the house. The usual glossy floor that she had become so accustomed to, was replaced with rutted stone and the walls were of a similar fashion.

Her forehead began to ache and she pulled away from the icy wood, brushing her knees as she stood. Her mind spun with possibilities for what the room held or its purpose but even with a key, Hermione didnt doubt the room would be extensively warded considering it seemed to be kept away from even the Malfoy's themselves. Hermione doubted their placement wasnt strategic, if anything worth keeping a secret was kept inside, the most vacant side of the manor would have been the most secure place for a room of such importance.

She sighed, turning on her heel and starting down the corridor, leaving the door and all her questions behind.

Back in her room, Hermione sat idly on her bed. The walls flashed breifly white and Hermione Sqeezed her eyes shut before blinking away the spots in her vision. Topsy had apparated and now stood at the centre, a tray balanced expertly on the palm of her hand as the other gripped a glass of water.

Hermione silently marvelled at the fact that even through apparition, the elf was able to keep the neatly organized meal in tact. The water in the glass was still like it it had been frozen over, uncapale of moving but her theory was shattered the moment Topsy stepped forward.

The elf gently placed the meal on her dresser, followed by the water that now sloshed agaisnt the sides of the glass, threatening to spill over as it connected with the wood.

"Where's Draco?" Hermione slid herself to the side of the bed, wrapping the ends of her fingers around the tray as she tugged it onto her lap.

Topsy's gaze returned to the floor as she shuffled nervously on her feet. "Mater Draco is busy." Topsy rushed the words out like they stung as she spoke.

Hermione frowned, looking up from her lap and observing the flustered elf in front of her. The steam warmed her face, tickling her skin as it rose from the burning plate. "Will he be back in time for--"

"Topsy thinks so." The elf cut her off and Hermione frowned again, the fork she had halfway to her mouth halting by her chin.

"Is the Mudblood needing anything?"

"No, you can leave."

The elf hurriedly apparated away. Hermione was well aware of Topsy's nervous habits. How she couldn't stand still and the way she would usually wrap a loose thread from her cloth around her nimble finger. Hermione had even tried to forget her manners when in the elf's presence, for Topsy's sake of course.

Hermione always dismissed Topsy's behaviour as unfamiliarity, considering Topsy struggled to look her in the eye.

But Topsy seemed to be in more of a rush than usual. The pace of how she performed her usual worrisome antics considerably more hurried as if her actions would make the encounter more brief.

Perhaps she was needed elsewhere. Her schedule was clearly always full considering Draco was burdenned with the task of supplying her evening meal. Hermione was a chore to him and he never failed to remind her of it.

Hermione had managed to get half way through her meal when the pesky thoughts she had tried so hard to ignore, began to resurface and suddenly the potato in her throat felt less like food and more like ash, clogging up her oesophageal. Her appetite was lost and she decided not force the food down, knowing it would do more bad than good to do so, setting her plate to the side.

A small sting grazed across her knees as she dropped to them in front of her dresser and tugged open the drawer, backing away slightly as it hung inches infront of her chest. She rumaged through it until she felt the familiar intricate design of her wand and wrapped her fingers tightly around the wood.

She brought it to eye level, studying the patterns engraved into it and ran a finger up and down its length.

It could have been like hers at Hogwarts but it missed the most important asset of all. The feeling she got from this wand was familiarity, the feeling she got from hers was magic. And it could never be replicated.

Rising to her feet, she pushed the drawer shut and began to walk towards the door.

Her wand hovered a few inches from it, aimed at the lock as she gripped it tighter and exhaled. Her knuckles had grown sallow as her finger tips pressed further into the wood. The familiar feeling of thrumming beneath her finger tips began to surface. The familiar feeling of magic.

Or perhaps her pulse.

"Alohomora." She whispered, twirling her wand in a practised circle around the lock, eyes fixed firmly on it, scanning for any indication of the spell's success.

She reached for the door handle, fingers closing over the cold metal and it rattled slightly with her nerves.

She twisted it quickly, as though the faster she performed the action, the higher the rate of success. It hardly moved and she sighed, dropping her hand back to her side in defeat. She hadnt particulaly expected it to work but the sudden thrum in her bones, to which she knew deep down was the rushed blood in her veins, and her determination had given her a slither of hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing.

She scorned herself for thinking that she was going to overcome the restrictions of the wand with purely determination and hope. She was beginning to sound like Harry.

The key hidden in her dresser seemed to call for her but leaving the room wasnt her intention. She thought that somehow if she was able to overcome the wards, or whatever took away her ability to cast spells at free will, that she could open the door she was so interested in. And if the wand was able to discard its previous state of restriction, she could escape.

Hermione shook her head. The Manor wouldn't allow her to leave either way, but she had a strong feeling that if the creator of the wards were to die, so would the spell.

She assumed the manor had been warded by one of the Malfoys, they did own the land. Lucius wasn't back until after the wards had already rendered her immobile. Before, she would've assumed Draco hadn't the skill to ward an area as large as the manor but she had recently come to realise never to underestimate Draco Malfoy.

Though Narcissa was a complete mystery to Hermione. She had only ever seen the woman once and never in battle. She wondered if the way Narcissa fought was some-what reminiscent of her sister.

Bellatrix was a crazed woman. She was driven by power and greed, full of hate and prejudice but her loyalty to Voldemort was fanatic and kept her somewhat contained. Hermione wasn't sure if her loyalty was based off of adoration or fear.

Bellatrixes fears were scarce if any, which wasn't surprising when the woman herself was the main charector in many peoples nightmares. Hermione decided the first option was more reasonable, after all, Bellatrix desired power and Voldemort had it.

When Draco finally strolled through Hermione's door, he was an hour late.

She clutched the clock in her palm and began to speak when she heard the door slam. "You're late." She said matter-of-factly, keeping her eyes on the clock face.

Draco began to walk towards the middle of the room, watching her perched absentmindedly in the window sill. He scoffed, "Why did i give you a clock?"

Hermione wondered if he was often late, she wouldn't have had a way of telling. She pushed the watch into her pocket, replacing her now empty palm with a wand and slid off the ledge, walking towards Draco.

She shrugged. "Because i asked." Hermione said simply and he seemed to disregard her answer. She knew his question was rhetorical but she wanted to answer nonetheless.

"I have decided that now is the best time to start teaching you spells." Draco said, his expression becoming stern again.

She scoffed. "I may be bad at casting them, but i know spells."

"No you dont, Granger." He seemed to grow slightly uncomfortable and the muscles of his jaw began to contort as he tensed. The air quickly became heavy. Hermione frowned and decided not to argue on the matter. He was odly convincing, though she expected it was due to his sudden serious stance.

"You have three months to learn these spells. I dont expect you to master them but if you want to stay alive, you will try your best to."

Hermione wasn't sure whether she did want to stay alive. "Dark magic?" She asked.

Draco nodded and Hermione felt her stomach turn, her dinner shifting, followed by her instant regret for consuming it.

Draco moved next to her and conjured a target as he spoke. "Most of these spells are new. You wont have heard of them."

Hermione nodded and he lifted his arm, steadying himself before quickly flicking his wrist.

"Adolebitque ossa." The spell slithered from his mouth with practised ease and flash of red struck the target harshly, knocking it back a few inches.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed together as she observed the dummy. It stood unharmed. Perhaps Draco had done it wrong, though she had never seen him fail a spell before.

It wasn't before the manequinn began to melt that she realised that the spell had worked. She turned her head to face him, averting her gaze from the puddle of plastic singeing the floor.

His eyes hovered over the dummies remains before he turned to Hermione. "It's a burning spell." He turned back towards the front of the room, twisting his wand and watching the mannequin's ruins vanish. "But it burns from the inside."

She grimaced.

Draco held his hand out infront of her and she observed it. His fingers were long and thin, each bone jutted out in a similar fashion to hers. They trembled slightly. "Give me your wand." She stared at him for a few considerable seconds but kept her hand tucked tightly into her side.

"Granger, it's hardly going to protect you." He stated, raising an eyebrow. "Give it to me." He ordered, his voice noticeably more firm. She reluctantly dropped the wand into his palm. He was right: it wouldn't protect her but it had always felt like it would. 

He tucked it into his pocket and pulled out another one, held just in front of his chest. Hermione wrapped her hands around the wood, tracing her thumb across the end. It was rougher than her last wand and the wood almost black. She quickly decided she didnt like it.

As she pressed her fingertips into the wood, a familar thrum ran up her hands. This time, she knew it wasn't her pulse. It ran through her starved veins, almost burning. It warmed her blood and strengthened her bones. She felt alive and thrived with the sensation. The feeling was unmistakable. It was magic.

Her gaze darted upwards, catching Draco's eyes.

"Before you try and kill me, i should inform you that i could have you on the ground before you managed to speak the first syllable of a spell."

Her mind raged with thoughts, everything she had been ignoring rushing back to the front of her mind. She didn't know why she bothered ignoring it in the first place at this point. Did they really know where her parents were? Were they worth sacrificing the future of the wizarding world for?

And then, she couldn't fight agaisnt the Order if she were dead.

"Dont start planning any suicide missions either, it would be a waste of your time." Hermione watched him skeptically, eyes narrowed into slits while she studied him. "By all means try if you dont believe me."

Her hand jerked upwards slightly as she held his gaze.It hovered hesitantly at her waist until He raised a mocking brow and she relaxed her hand, dropping it to her side.

A piece of parchment appeared between his fingers and he tucked it into her jean pocket. She flinched slightly but his hand was back at his side in seconds.

"It has a list of spells on it. Learn them all." He said and she brought out the parchment stuffed messily in her pocket. She smoothed her hand across the front and began to read. Rows of spells filled the page, none of which she was familiar with.

She frowned and repeated the first spell written, in what she assumed was Draco's script, across the top.

"Praeceptor perimus--" 

Before she could finish the spell, her arm was yanked harshly backwards and her wand tumbled to the floor. Searing pain tore up her arm in its place and her veins felt as through they were on fire, her wrist, numb.

Everything came to a halt and Hermione felt a draft near her ear followed by a deep chuckle. The sound rumbled against her back. To her dismay, she was pressed tightly agaisnt Draco, his hand wrapped firmly around her wrist that was pushed agaisnt her stomach and her other hand was trapped between them, the feeling slowly returning.

"I did warn you, Granger." She felt his breath ghost agaisnt the back of her neck and her skin prickled in response. The hand behind her back twitched, grazing his belt and she felt him tense against her.

Hermione was quickly released.

She turned to face him, massaging her injured wrist as she frowned sternly. "I wasn't going to use it on you." She said sulkily. "I was simply sounding it out." Hermione continued to rub slow circles into the side of her wrist, the skin had grown pink with irritation.

"The spells were created with the war in mind. So in order to make them easy to learn, the wand motions are extremely simple. The magority of them use the same one." He brought his wand adjacent to his chest and drew a quick sharp line through the air, followed by a small flick downwards.

Hermione watched him. She wondered if he knew he was teaching her to kill his comrads.

She mimicked him with an empty hand and Drac nodded approvingly.

"You'll find that most of the spells don't necessarily require it. But it helps."

"What do they mean?" Hermione asked as he turned away from her and began towards the door.

"It doesn't matter what they do, Granger. Just memorise them. I expect you to know them all by tomorrow." He scooped his hand towards the floor and grasped her wand, tucking it into his pocket along with his hand.


	16. Sixteen

Hermione spent the day in bed. She had been studying the parchment of spells since she woke and was certain almost every one was engraved throroughly in her head. It was a convinient distraction.

She couldn't help but wonder what each spell did , something morbid she was sure. She tried to imagine herself casting them, face to face with a Death Eater as she told herself repeatedly that they deserved it.

She had tried so desperately to convince the Order that using dark magic was necessary if they wanted an equal chance against the Death Eaters, told them repeatedly that without it, it would be a miracle if they won. But now that her choice was being stripped from her, did she still believe that?

The Order would be completely oblivious as to the new spells being developed which meant they couldn't know the countercurses. Hermione wasn't sure how long ago the spells were made or if they were already being used against the Order.

Perhaps if they were, Harry would change his mind; realise that hope itself wasn't enough to win. Dark magic came with a cost, it was said to corrupt the mind, turn people into monsters and she didn't doubt that. Voldemort had proved such stories to be true.

Perhaps Harry was so reluctant because he had seen what it had done to Tom. Seen the boy before, during his years at Hogwarts and the child at the orphanage. But Tom had always been troubled, somewhat dark.

Maybe if they just refused to let it consume them, fight agaisnt the darkness unlike Tom Riddle all those years ago. But Hermione wasnt stupid, she knew the power of dark magic and the cost.

The question was, were the Order willing to pay the price of it? Corrupt their own bodies, their own minds for the future of the wizarding world?

Hermione knew she was.

That evening Topsy had been the one to bring Hermione dinner and when she questioned the elf on Draco's absence she replied with, "Master Draco is being busy," just as she always did.

Perhaps he was getting tired of her. Maybe seeing Hermione twice in a day was too much for him but either way, Hermione sat in her usual spot by the window, tapping the clock face absentmindedly as she waited.

Each time the longest hand passed twelve, she would bring her finger lazily towards the glass, reciting the list of spells until she hardly had to think on it. Sorting the similar sounding spells into catorgories, carefully organizing them into seperate corners of her mind.

She had been taught small parts of latin throughout her years in Hogwarts but not enough to piece together words and their meanings. She wasnt sure if she even wanted to know what they did, that way perhaps she could cast them and turn away before the gruesome reaction took effect. She would never know the pain she was causing.

But some part of her wanted to watch. Wanted to see them suffer. Remove their masks and watch them crumple to the floor at her hand. They deserved it.

She didn't judge that part of herself.

As she recited the last spell from the list, she gazed down to the clock. Draco wasn't late, though in two minutes he would be.

She tapped her feet against the wall on the other side of the window. They lay flat against the surface, each collision sending a light "clip" sound through the room.

Her mind wondered idly to the large room that she was clearly forbidden to see. Hermione thought of who would be allowed in, what was carried out inside. It was such an odd space, so out of place in a house like Malfoy Manor. She had decided that it hadn't always been there, a new addition to the house.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the snap of the door as it fell open . Draco followed through the doorframe and with an effortless wave of his hand, it closed behind him.

She slid off window sill, setting the clock down in her absence and Draco eyed it before glancing back up to her.

"Am I late?" His eyebrow jerked upwards, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, one side more than the other. "You're not." Hermione said, she decided not to tell him he was early.

Draco's hand withdrew from his pocket and he chucked Hermione's wand in her direction. She barely caught it, most of the wood clutched between her arm and chest. The witches eyes shot up towards him, studying his expression. "That was a bad throw." She said defensively.

He raised his eyebrow. "No, it was a bad catch." He corrected. "I am not bad at anything."

Hermione scoffed. "Your ego is showing." 

Draco brought out his own wand and Hermione's features grew briefly concerned, she was certain she had struck a nerve and that he was seconds away from hexing her.

Instead, he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Did you learn the spells I gave you?"

"Yes."   
"All of them?"  
"All of them."

Draco nodded and positioned himself in front of her."You will be duelling agaisnt me." 

Hermione frowned, looking up at him. Even at a distance he towered over her.

She had learnt the spells but even months into her training she was certain she couldn't duel. Especially not against someone as advanced as Draco.

"Do you remember the wand motion?" He asked, preparing himself for a demonstration.  
"Yes." She answered, gripping her wand tighter.

"I'm only going to cast stinging hexes, you, on the other hand, will use all the spells I've taught you." He said and Hermione remained mainly impassive.

Draco smirked, cocking an eyebrow. "Dont worry yourself, Granger. You aren't going to hurt me."

The witch scoffed, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm not worried."

"Whenever you're ready, Granger." Draco said. Hermione observed his calm state, wand dangled between his fingers which lay at his sides and his eyes slightly hooded.

"Praeceptor perimus!"

Draco's hand quickly shot to his chest and with a snap of his wrist, the spell was deflected. His reflexes were impeccable. Hermione took a silent breath before scrambling through her head. She was going down the list.

"Adolebitque ossa!" It had been the spell he'd shown her, the one that melted the mannequin. She thought of what it would do to him had he failed to deflect it and bit hard of her cheek. But his hand darted to the right side of his chest and instantly, her Crimson spell vanished. 

"Rigescunt indutae!" She said and as the spell vanished before his wand, "In illis!"

Draco's eyes widened slightly, drawing a line over his heart and deflecting the purple crack of her spell. 

Hermione's forehead creased slightly as she raised a brow.

Quickly, Draco's hand snapped into action and an orb of white began to glow at the tip of his wand before reaching out towards her. She leaped out of its path, the heat of the spell briefly warming her skin as it passed.

She landed harshly on the floor in front of him.

Hermione stared up at Draco through a frown. He observed her current position, eyes darting to where her knees met the floor, calves folded under her thighs. He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

She blushed briefly pink, scrambling off her knees and patting herself down.

Suddenly, a string of green left her wand and shot towards Draco's head as she muttered the words and for a moment, her breath hitched because he didn't react. His wand stayed at his side, expression strangely calm as he watched her eyes through the green.

She frowned back, eyes wide.

Just in time, the tip of his wand was hovered in front of his face, disrupting the spells path as he deflected it. Hermione released a breath she hadn't meant to hold in. The action was so fast she hadn't seen the path his hand took, only its destination.

As she began to relax her shoulders, he snapped his wand quickly to the side and the same white orb filled its tip, smothering his face with light. Hermione snatched her wand towards it. The light vanished.

"Better." He said before casting again. This time, Hermione easily deflected it, replacing his spell with her own. "Organa infirmum!"

The room flashed with spells. Each spell deflected was replaced with a new one and Hermione wished in that moment, that she was as skilled at non-verbal spell casting as her opponent.

When Hermione deflected Draco's last jinx, she dropped her head, hands resting on her knees. Her chest rose and fell as she panted, her vision spotted black. If she were alone, she would've dropped to the floor completely.

She gazed up at Draco through her eyelashes to find he was entirely composed. He stood with the same casual posture as he usually did, hands in his pocket and she could hardly see his chest rise at all.

"When was the last time you went outside?" He asked, observing her state. Hermione shuddered slightly as the day resurfaced in her head. She never wanted to feel as helpless as that day had made her, again.

"When I left my room." For all Draco knew, she had only left once. He nodded, averting his gaze to the floor and then absently out the window. Hermione didn't follow his eye line, she had watched the view from her window nearly everyday since she had been there and anything he could've been watching, she would have already seen too many times.

She stood straight, the rising and falling of her chest gradually returning to ordinary and he began to speak. "Can you cast non-verbally?"

Hermione thought the question to be quite stupid. "If I could, I would have."  
Draco nodded again, holding out his palm so it hung just in front of her chest. She huffed dropping the wand into his palm.

"I'll teach you." He said, wrapping his fingers around the wood.  
"Alright." She said simply though more grateful than she decided to show. Draco nodded before turning to the door and tugging it open.

She waited for the sound of his retreating footsteps before allowing herself to slump down onto the bed.

Draco was teaching her to kill her friends, not defend herself and she decided she would start reminding herself of that fact more often.

As she sunk into her bed, her eyelids fell shut. She decided she would shower in the morning and quickly, was engulfed by sleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke with a dull ache in her wrist. She trudged lazily towards the bathroom, squinting as she passed the window and stepping past the glass door of the shower.

To her gratitude, the bathroom was exceedingly more dim than her room. She watched the window through the door. The sun still hung low in the sky, orange but projecting white as it grazed the manor grounds.

She sighed, turning towards the taps and gripping one before attempting to twist. Her wrist was stiffer than she thought and hardly allowed her to turn the knob halfway. She swapped hands, the small amount of water trickling across the smooth skin of her arm.

The water hissed and she stifled a gasp as it rushed out, a thin layer of it draping across her body. She turned to the front and tilted her head back, letting her eyes fall shut. If she imagined hard enough, she could almost pretend she was back at home.

She dropped her head down to the floor as she sighed. She opened her eyes. The water beneath her feet was tinged red.

Fuck.

Hermione stood in the doorway to the bathroom, one shoulder leant against the frame and her free arm holding her towel in place.

"I haven't got it since I've been here." Hermione said, keeping her legs tightly closed. "I assumed a spell had been used to stop it."

Topsy's rocked on her toes, watching Hermione with her wide glossy eyes. "A spell as such would ware off after a while Topsy thinks." She tilted her head slightly. "Topsy can request it be replaced, if that's what the Mudblood wants."

Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor, "Who would perform the spell?"

"Me thinks Master Draco would be able to—"  
"No. No it's fine."

Hermione sighed as she leant her head against the frame of the door and the elf shuffled on her feet, fiddling with a loose thread of her clothing. "Topsy could do it."

When Hermione's gaze turned to Topsy, the elf immediately looked down. "Yes," Hermione smiled, "alright."

"Topsy must get permission first." Before the witch could speak, Topsy vanished from the room. Hermione may as well have asked Draco to do it himself, she hadn't been aware that Topsy would require permission. Either way he would be informed of her situation.

Now she thought on it, it was no surprise that she couldn't do it then and there. She expected Topsy was just as much a prisoner as herself. Hermione sighed and began searching through the bathroom cabinets.

As Hermione reached the end of the hall, she briefly scanned the area before staring back at the towering pair of doors. She slowly got to her knees, a sting reminiscent of her fall when duelling with Draco. She forced herself not to blush at the memory and pressed her eye to the keyhole.

Unlike her last visit, the room was occupied. She squinted, observing the person inside as they moved along the tables. The shadow of the candles danced along their frame. From the way their eyes dragged along each row of tables, she would assume they were studying some sort of work. Of what, she couldn't see.

As he reached the last row of tables, closest to the door, they abruptly turned and Hermione quickly snatched her head back, recoiling behind a convenient pillar.

The door buckled and stirred open, following the heavy sound of footsteps. Hermione tilted her head, keeping it pressed against the cold stone, and peering around the edge. The person, who she now suspected to be a man, had his back to her. His frame filled just over half of the door and his large hands fumbled with the key.

Hermione turned her head back. She needed to get in. She fumbled through her pockets, desperately turning them out. She was beginning to lose hope when something pricked her finger. The witch hissed through teeth before wrapping her hands around something cold and jagged.

Her eyes lit up. It was the same shard of glass she had used to cut her hair. A hint of a smile grew on her face. It was a menace of a smile, wicked and conniving. She heard the key rattle its way into the door and her face turned into a frown as she began to debate with herself.

She could try and kill the man. Anyone willingly in Malfoy Manor would be better off dead in her eyes. Though what good would that do? She would be left with a body and no way to dispose of it. She doubted she would be killed for her action but there were worse things than dying. And she was certain Voldemort knew them all.

She would not kill the man. 

She chucked the glass as far as her weak arms would allow and watched the man's head dart in its direction as it collided with the floor. To her delight, his hand left the key stuck in the door and began to stroll over in the direction of the noise.

As he passed her pillar, she slowly moved around it, rising to her feet when they were on opposite sides. Her heart was thumping against her ribs and she had to manually slow her breathing in order not to be heard.

She watched the man wander towards the opposite end of the hall and began to walk to the door. Her steps were feather light, nothing more than a whisper against the polished floor. Even if her steps had been loud, it wouldn't have mattered, they would have been no doubt engulfed by the heavy thud of his.

She began to turn the handle, hoping it didn't click when it opened like hers. She glanced backwards, eyeing the man who was now curiously observing the floor and no doubt the small shards of shattered glass. He began to avert his gaze upwards and to the side, in search of a source and she didn't hesitate.

The door swung silently open and she quietly stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind her in case the man decided to look back or had determined it was a trick.

The contrast of floors shocked her bare feet, the smooth polish of the manor's floor replaced with harsh, jutted stone. She stepped foreword, pushing her lips in a thin line to hide her discomfort, and observed the room. 

It looked the same from the restricted view of the keyhole but larger. The tables stretched further than she had thought and she traced an absent finger along the edge.  
She began to walk along side them, eyeing the contents on top.

Rows of metal rings crowded the tables and she reached out hesitantly towards one, pausing an inch away from the metal before dragging her finger tip along its rim. The cold stung her, numbing her hands as she brought it to her face, turning it observantly between her hands.

There was a latch but no place for a key and as she sized up the metal ring sitting between her fingers her she realised what it was she was holding.

They were making collars. Tons and tons of them.

The door clicked and she snatched her head in its direction. She dropped to her knees, scurrying under the table as she watched people begin to filter into the room. Each man was more or less the same, same scraggly hair and tired eyes forced into rough and uneven skin.

Feet appeared in front of her as they lined up against the tables and instantly the room was filled with the loud clanging of metal. With the last person through the door, she quickly crawled across the length of the table.

She watched as the door began to fall shut, her heart crashing against her ribs as she slowly exhaled. Then, she ran, sliding through the closing gap in the door. She had expected a few lingering eyes but as she caught a last brief gaze into the room, each worker was absently messing with metal on the desk, completely oblivious to her presence.

It was strange how in sync they were, like machines she thought.

She checked her pocket for the key and relaxed slightly at its feeling on her fingertips. The cold grazed past her skin like an icy exhale, ghosting between the gaps in her fingers.

She shivered, grasping the clock between her fingers and bringing out the time piece.  
As she turned it over in her hands, her eyes grew wide.

"Shit." She mumbled, forcing the clock back into her pocket and setting off into a sprint down the hall. She had two minutes to return to her room , any longer and she could be caught. Hermione could only hope that it would Topsy that caught her, if anyone. Perhaps she could persuade the elf to keep her secret, maybe mention that if she is found out, the elf is likely to be punished all the same as her, possibly worse.

She reached her door, panting as her fingers fumbled with the key. She shoved it through the door, preparing herself for the sight of Draco or Topsy as she twisted the key and forced the door open.

Her room was empty.

She slammed the door shut, locked it and stuffed the key into her drawer.

A mere few seconds later, the door fell open and Draco filled the doorframe, frowning. His eyes trailed up and down her body, settling on certain areas more than other but his main focus was her chest. She tried to steady its paces but it only made her more breathless.

"What the fuck is up with you, Granger?" He said, strolling towards her. Her already scarce breath hitched as he slid the tray on top of her dresser. She watched his eyes for any lingering stares between the open crack in the drawers but he quickly turned away, placing himself a few feet in front of her.

"Nothing." She said as her breathing began to slow. He studied her before quickly raising his eyebrows and dropping them down again dismissively. "You don't bring me dinner much anymore." Hermione said, allowing herself to lean slightly on the bed frame before her knees decided to shake. She really needed to get more exercise.

"I'm a busy man." Draco shrugged.  
"So I'm told."

The room fell silent and Draco's face turned firm. "Topsy told me about your request." He said simply. She tugged the gnawed skin on her cheek between her teeth. "I can do the spell for you now. It's extremely simple."

Hermione nodded and he stepped closer, pulling his wand from his trouser pocket and holding it out in front of him. Hermione had never been conscious for the spell before but Draco was right, it was simple. 

"That's it?" She asked as she stepped away, the darkness of his trouser swallowing his wand. "That's it." He turned for the door and tugged it open, glancing over his shoulder as he held the door agar. "Be ready for later." He shut the door behind him.

Those words usually went unsaid. Or perhaps she had forgotten he used to say them before Topsy took over in his absence.


	17. Seventeen

Hermione's body was sticky with sweat and she had stuffed down the meal as quickly as her stomach would allow. She couldn't bare to be in her clothes any longer. They clung to her skin in a similar way that her hair clung to the damp sides of her face. And her jeans rubbed the backs of her knees where they bunched up.

She slid the tray back onto the dresser and quickly shot to her feet, already unbuttoning her jeans and hopping on one leg as she stumbled towards the bathroom. She discarded her jeans just outside of the door, kicking them blindly in the direction of the dresser as she tugged her shirt over her head.

The thin fabric clung to her face and when it finally came loose, she grimaced at the fact that it was almost sheer. It landed just next to the jeans and she discarded the rest of her clothes on the bathroom floor.

The shower sprung into motion and she fully submerged herself in the water, gliding her hands over her skin as it tumbled between her fingertips. She watched the path it took from pooling in the dip between her collarbones, to gliding elegantly down her stomach and caressing the small curve of her thigh.

She traced a new path with the delicate touch of her finger. Her skin prickled in response despite the searing heat of the water. She followed the stream down her sternum and across the small curve of her stomach. When she reached just below her navel she halted, finger paused against her skin as she watched the drops of water draw messy lines in the steamy glass in front of her.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she found herself surrounded in darkness. Not the hopeless dark like her time in the cell, a tranquil type and she briefly relished in it. But then she felt a hand that wasn't her own, glide along her stomach and the calm was broken.

A hand held her face, thumb on the corner of her mouth, distracting her from the rough edge of the tree pressing into her back.

Soft and eager lips were on hers, a thumb smoothing her cheek at the same pace as the kiss. Heat tore through her body like a wave and then just as quickly as the lips had appeared, they were gone.

There was a pressure on her neck, delicate kisses turning to bites as her leg was hitched upwards in a moment of pure desperation and she inhaled sharply. Mint.

Her eyes shot open and her hand was back at her side. She was met with the misted glass of the shower door and sighed, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair. It was strange to ever had been that close with the man who now held her prisoner.

Almost horrifying the fact she wanted more. She saw his pain and wanted to help him. Hermione scorned herself for ever thinking such things. Though she still remembered how he used to be. Couldn't shake the memories no matter how hard she tried.

She remembered the night in the library, his warning of war that she chose to ignore in a moment of ignorance. He had told her of their differences, the fact that they were at opposite ends of a battle.

It was almost ironic, how he had tried to keep them apart primarily because she was 'good' and he was not. Because two rivals could never be lovers. And now here she was, due to fight alongside him in the war he had tried to keep her from. 

She hadn't expected him to help her. Not after she saw him in the hall upon her arrival. Not after he stared at her with such disgust, treated her like nothing. 

Perhaps he would have killed her had Voldemort's plan not required her alive.

They had become strangers in a matter of minutes. From healing him outside their potions classroom, to watching him stand a hallway away from her when she was taken. He could saved her. He didn't.

Perhaps he thought that behind a mask he was invisible. To some, maybe he was, but not her. She wondered if under the mask he was grinning as he watched her collapse into the greedy hands of the death eater. Smirking because he knew he had fooled her. 

The cold air bit into her skin as she left the comfort of the steamy bathroom. She turned to the window. Beyond the lights, the night hung low over the manor, the smudge between orange and black creating a halo around the grounds.

She walked to the window, pressing her palm against the cool glass and not flinching away when it stung her. The cold slowly sunk into her skin and she invited it. The world outside was hazy, fog clung to everything, partially blocking out the light from the lamps littered around the grounds. 

Through the fog, was a figure. She narrowed her eyes, forehead creasing where her eyebrows furrowed. It was hard to tell where their body started and where the food ended but the weather could not conceal the platinum hair in such contrast against the dark.

He was sat on a bench. The same black one he use to visit so often and as she suspected, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. Draco pressed his mouth together and the tip glowed orange, mimicking the tone of the lights. Had the light from the cigarette been slightly brighter, it could have passed as another one of the many orange beacons.

The smoke spiralled from the stick tip as he brought it back down, elbow resting on knee and his hand dangling just off of his leg. Smoke spiralled from it, rising upwards towards his face and soon merging with the twisted grey that fell from his nose.

The world was lit briefly by a white light and Hermione started backwards, her eyes drew shut until the room slow returned to its familiar orange hue. She stepped forward to find that Draco wasn't alone now.

A tall, thin woman stood beside him. She held herself with grace and somewhat importance, but when Draco turned to her, she dropped her shoulders in an act of release. As though his sight itself was enough to slacken her muscles.

He didn't seem fazed by the woman, as she reached out and rested a shaking hand on his shoulder. He dropped his cigarette to the floor, crushing it between shoe and granite before rising to his feet and turning to her.

And then he smiled. Not a grin, nor a smirk. A smile. It was a sad sort, though kind. Whatever the purpose, it wasn't for himself but the woman in front of him. Perhaps an act of silent reassurance. He turned back towards the manor doors and for a moment, Hermione expected their eyes to meet. His smile to turn sour.

But he didn't and neither did the woman. But when she turned, Hermione realised who she was.

His mother, the resemblance was unmistakable and from the new angle, her white hair weaved through her dark hair, surfacing from its previous position hidden behind brown.

They retreated back into the Manor and Hermione sighed at the loss of her distraction.

The fog was too thick to possibly gather enough detail for a sketch and that was one of her only hobbies. The other being wandering the hallways. She frowned, eyes focused on the ground as if in thought and then she strolled towards her wardrobe.

Her frown never left, pulling her clothes on now she still stared with either dismay or thought.

She dropped to her knees in front of her dresser, ignoring the sting of bone against marble as she tugged open the drawer and retrieved the key. She studied it a few moment before gripping it tightly in her hands and slamming the drawer shut.

Hermione hovered in front of the door, a crease still present between her Hebrews where they remained furrowed. She was so tired of familiarity and now she had finally gotten through the large black double doors at the end of the vast hallway, it was time to find a new distraction.

The door snapped shut behind her as she locked it. She glanced to each side of the hallway, slipping the key into her back pocket and then exhaling. Where she had only ever turned right before, she turned left.

For a moment, she frowned because it was a replica of the right side she had passed so many times. But then she saw it. A grande stairway leading out into a larger hall. The unfamiliarity set off goosebumps across her skin and her stomach turned in warning.

But Hermione had no desire to turn back. It seemed a year locked up had turned the smartest witch into a fool.

The quiet air hummed with only the buzz of magic. She expected nothing less from a house of such significance. Though the magic was dark. She could tell only from the temperature it radiated. The air was cold where it had previously been warm and she wrapped her bare arms around her stomach, wishing she had decided on a jumper.

She studied the walls, eyes observing her reflection in the wall. The light was dim, The mirror image of herself was hardly there and that is how she looked at it, unable to see her empty eyes, her frail body. Just the vague shape of her silhouette.

Her steps were almost silent on the polished floor and so she walked with her usual pace. Though when she reached a corner, she halted, confused as to how her steps had suddenly developed a sound.

But the sound carried on even in her footsteps absence and so she peered warily around the corner, hand pressed into icy wall. A man was headed towards her. He had all the grace of an elephant and then she spotted his mask, reflecting the dim light and her breath hitched.

And then before she could study him further, he turned, the sound of heavy doors falling open as he entered a room. She knew she shouldn't have, but she followed. Not inside, but to where the doors met the hallway and she caught the wood before it closed, leaving it slightly ajar and enough for her see inside.

She realised her mistake when her eyes fell on the large dark table in the centre of the room. It was lined with people dressed in the same attire as the man she had followed, black cloaks draping over the edges of chairs though their masks rested beside them on the tables. The room emitted no sound, it presumably had a spell to keep the voices inside and away from curious ears like hers.

She didn't recognise any faces until her gaze grazed along one in particular. A boy she was so familiar with yet in this moment he felt more like a stranger. Draco sat amongst his family , eyes fixed firmly on... Voldemort.

Hermione clenched her teeth.

Draco had told her about the meetings and now she knew he was apart of them. He had the mark. Draco Malfoy was a death eater. It didn't even surprise her, which she supposed made it even worse. Though she couldn't help the sick feeling in her stomach as the realisation set in. Couldn't help the bile rising up her throat.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly in attempt to pass the feeling. She shouldn't care. She wouldn't care. It was his own life he was ruining and she was sure he wouldn't want her empathy anyway.

She opened her eyes, turning her attention back through the small gap in the door.

Her stomach dropped. The sick feeling returned though extremely more real. Draco was watching her. His head still faced Voldemort but his eyes were fixed firmly on hers. She scrambled backwards, grip falling from the door as it began to fall shut.

They held each others gaze until the very last moment before the door closed. She was breathing heavily through her nose. His expression was empty but his eyes were... sinister.

She swallowed hard, hurrying to her feet before she took off in a sprint. Her footsteps were still silent even with her quickened pace.

She took in ragged breaths, chest burning as she ascended the steps. She tripped, grazing her leg against the corner, the polished floor appearing to be sharper than it seemed. She sobbed, dragging herself onward as her Crimson blood ran like jagged tears down her shin.

She ripped the key from her back pocket with trembling hands, hitting wood the first few attempts before it slid into the keyhole, rattling with her tremors as she turned it.

She didn't bother locking it behind herself, just shoved the key back into her pocket. He had seen her. He could get in. At this point locking it would be foolish.

Her heart beat rapidly against her rib cage, so much she wanted to claw it out.

Instead, she ran to the bathroom. Hermione barely made it in time, grasping the toilet seat as she collapsed to her knees. Her throat burned as she lurched violently. 

Red smeared across the floor where she knelt and the witch slumped against the wall, the sour taste of bile still lingering on her tongue, and turning so she could cradle her legs. 

That was where she stayed for the next five minutes, thinking up endless possibilities of what Draco would do to her. She set no boundaries. Draco was unpredictable and she knew better. Perhaps he would take her to Voldemort, maybe he preferred not to get his hands dirty. She had always thought him as a coward.

The flush roared in her ears as she pulled it, rising to her feet and shakily making her way towards the window. She gazed outside it, eager for a distraction but the grounds were as still as always. She turned, leaning against the window sill.

Hermione hated waiting. There was so much one could think up while alone with their thoughts. But it was more the not knowing. Not knowing what to expect or do. Perhaps he wouldn't even come, maybe he wouldn't have cared. But her theory was quickly shoved aside when the door was shoved open and Draco stalked through.

The door slammed behind him, without a single tell that he had done it. His chest rose and fell almost as rapidly as hers.

"Where the fuck is the key, Granger." His voice was firm but not raised and she swallowed hard. The room was silent, nothing but Hermione's panicked breaths disturbed the quiet.

Draco slowly exhaled, head falling to floor as he shook it. An act of disbelieve she presumed. Hermione swore he was smiling.

Her blood roared in her ears, heart beating faster than it ever had before and when he looked back up, returning his gaze to her. She froze. She felt nothing. Nothing but fear.

But Draco was smiling and the room was silent. She stopped breathing.

The calm before the storm.

"Where is the fucking key?!" He yelled, his magic humming in the air, prickling her skin as it hovered around her. She shivered. Dark magic. Still, she didn't speak. Out of defiance or pure fear she wasn't sure.

He stepped forward, watching her retreat further into the wall, her body shaking, her palms pressed firmly against the wall for support but found none. Hermione watched in terror as he stalked towards like a predator. 

"Just know that I tried."

She barely had time to frown before a searing pain tore itself through her mind. Her legs buckled beneath her and Hermione fell to her knees before him. She was aware her eyes were open and yet all she saw was white. Bright, blinding white.

Pictures flashed against the back of her eyes. No, not pictures. Memories. She was reliving the previous minutes of her life, from leaving the room to returning. Specially picked from her mind with practiced ease. And then it was as though someone began dragging a knife through her mind, the blade slicing through every memory as it split in two before her. She cried out, throat hoarse as her voice cracked. 

They kept coming. Images of her life flashing behind her eyes only to be torn to shreds. She was stuck in her own subconscious. She watched herself lurch against the toilet seat, each thought she had burning through her mind like a wild fire.

What would he do to her? 

And then the pain stopped. And she collapsed to the floor, panting, one hand holding her up as the other gripped the side of her head. An attempt to hold together every memory that had been torn. She wouldn't allow herself to crumble. To become insane.

A drop of blood hit the floor. Red as cherries. The colour sprawled across the polished floor, reaching out in all directions as if a hand trying to claw itself away from the pain.

She looked up through her eyelashes. Draco towered over her, any remaining anger turned to something she couldn't read.

He gazed at her nose, at the blood dribbling from each nostril and running around the rim of her mouth. "No one has ever used legilimency on you before." It was a question just as much as it was a statement.

Something flashed in his eyes. Gone before it could linger but through her misted vision, the witch wouldn't have been able to establish the emotion anyway nor did she care to.

And then, like always, his mask fell back in place and his expression turned stern, bordering on impassive. "I know the key is in your pocket. I watched you put it in there."

Hermione clenched her teeth together so hard they ached and she wiped the blood from her nose. He had just torn apart her mind, shattered each memory into something unrecognisable. He acted like he had done nothing.

"I'm not going to take it from you. Not from your pocket. You have to give it to me." His was voice was calm even with the command.

She didn't have the strength to disobey and ripped the icy metal from behind her.

Draco held out his palm but she chucked the key to the floor. Her last bit of freedom, gone. The metal skidded towards him, a line of her blood smeared across its crown.

Draco didn't say anything else, retrieved the key and slowly walked towards the door.

"I hate you." She spat, staring at him from her place on the ground and he halted, after a few moments, turning his head back to look at her.

There it was again. The glint in his eye that he tried so much to conceal. But this time it lingered. And it seemed to say...

I'm sorry.

The words rung in her head like a bell as though she wasn't reading them from his eyes. They echoed in her subconscious, ricocheting off the walls of her broken mind. Then, like a hushed whisper in her ear. Broken but soft and almost pleading for forgiveness. Forcing the apology onto her before she could refuse like it knew of its impending rejection. She was beginning to think she wasn't just reading them. 

Then he turned away from her and left.


	18. Eighteen

For the second time that day, Hermione found herself waiting.

Staring down at her clock, she wondered if Draco would come. Each whisper of a tick from the time piece sparked a new memory. The tang of blood was still present on her crimson tinged lips and her temples ached with the previous invasion. 

It took her the good part of an hour to force herself from the floor and when she finally began to stand, her legs would shake viscously and strain as though they were nothing but mere twigs.

And ever since she stood, she had paced. Each step conjuring a new question. She had always known about legilimency, known of why it was used and the effects of it when someone pushed too hard. Compared to other cases, Hermione was lucky.

It was hard to call what he did invading her memories since they were hardly hers to keep anyway. She belonged to Voldemort now. Belonged, in a way, to Draco. And he had ventured as far to see her leave, he left anything unnecessary untouched.

The door fell open and she halted, almost collapsing again just in his heavy presence. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she turned and when she caught Draco's gaze, she held it.

It was different, his facade was almost fractured.

And then the words rang like bells again in her head, almost painful.

Im sorry.

The words now, she could tell, were merely memories. They were echoes in her broken mind, almost comforting if she forgot who's voice was speaking them.

Draco stepped forward closing the door after him not with magic but his hands and he seemed to linger briefly before turning back around again to face her. Neither spoke. Just watched each other intently and when he stood in front of her, he reach out a hand, offering her wand. Though of course it wasn't a choice whether she took it or not. Nothing was every a choice.

Hermione took the wand from his grip and outstretched if I front of her. The wood landed just in front of her chest and she grounded her feet, never leaving her gaze. His jaw contorted briefly under his skin before he raised his wand in response.

She didn't wait, spells sparked from the end of her wand, the spells running off her tongue with ease. With each spell the room flashed a different colour, all cracked as they split in jagged lines through the air and vanished just before his chest.

From behind the spells, Draco was staring blankly at her, deflecting with practiced ease even at the new found speed of her spell work. The spells tumbled from her mouth until they didn't and her spells snapped through the room, filled with such emotion that they did not need to be cast with words.

The witches chest burned with rage and the need to say something burned up inside her. The apologies had sounded so real, so present. His face so...broken, almost lifeless as the words rung around her head, unescapable. But she heard them, she was sure of it. The subtle whisper next to her ear. I'm sorry. Unspoken words and spoken all at once. And they took the shape of his voice. 

He had left with nothing but a look, one Hermione couldn't quite understand.

She wanted to hurt him. Yearned for nothing more in this moment than for his defence to slip and a spell to slip through. But then she saw the glint of consideration in his eyes and it was clear his mind was turning just as much as hers. The room was heavy with things unsaid, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife as the two spoke with spells instead of sentences.

Then she saw his hand halt by his chest and as she prepared to cast the next spell, it dropped to his side. She snatched her hand away. Purple split through the air, dividing either sides of the room briefly as it travelled in jagged lines. She watched the spell in his eyes. She watched his hands stay firmly by his sides. And then the spell hit. Skimming past his arm with searing heat and colliding with wardrobe behind him.

After that, the room was silent. The kind of silence that was so quiet it was loud. His eyes stared back at her, eyebrows hooding her own as they furrowed. He hadn't tried to deflect it. Draco's jaw tensed, the muscles rippling at either side. When Hermione opened her mouth, the words clung to her tongue and the silence seemed to catch it, clogging her throat in a breath before they could stumble out.

He slowly exhaled. His hand reached for hers but didn't loiter, gently taking her wand and tucking both back into his pockets. His eyes lingered on hers a moment more before he turned. 

"Draco." She whispered as he reached the door. He paused but didn't turn to look at her and when she followed up with nothing, he tugged the door open and left.

****

Two months later

Hermione's clock had run out. She had trained non-stop for the past two months. It was repetitive, and Draco hardly spoke but the sessions always left her aching. He had shown her how to move with grace and quick agile steps. Told her that the enemy wouldn't stand idly by and wait for her to kill them. Though the one thing she remembered was that he can called the battlefield a ballroom and the people on them, dancers.

He had incorporated the dance from the ball back at Hogwarts into her steps and she had gotten rather good. Draco was of course still better, but in six months, Hermione had improved wildly. She decided to put that on her abilities to adapt and learn quickly and not the fact he had turned out to be quite a remarkable teacher.

She had suffered through the last week, unable to eat and refusing to train, though she hardly needed it, and he didn't force her. After the first few days of refusal, he didn't come back. Not to train her. Not to bring her dinner. Topsy had taken over that role completely now. The elf had grown more comfortable in her presence with the frequented visits. Would hold her gaze now, didn't shuffle so much on her feet, though still, the elf was not accustomed to manners and so Hermione reframed from thanking the elf too often.

Now, Hermione was merely a day away from her first mission and there wasn't a moment of the day where her stomach didn't turn with dread. She hadn't seen Draco in just over a week. She wasn't sure if he would visit her with this being her last night with a good conscience and clean record. No matter what happened, there would be blood on her hands. Whether it be her parents for turning against the death eaters, or her friends for not.

Now, she sat in the same place in her window sill. The same place she had sat in for nearly a year and Hermione stared down at the small clock Draco had given all that time ago. If only she could go back. When the war felt so far away but then it would still happen in the end. No matter if she went back, the war was inevitable and delaying it was nothing useful. It would only mean she would have to experience the build up again.

She had grown to hate time itself. Everything it stood for, how no matter how hard you tried, it could not be stopped nor slowed. She just wanted to stop it. To reach through the glass of the clock and hold the hands still. Perhaps it would calm her, take away her stress but then that would only last for as long as time would stay stopped for. And she doubted it would ever be so generous.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she felt at peace. The last time she could finish a meal and the last time where she could fall into a dreamless sleep. Ones where she wasn't murdering her friends. She wanted to worry about who would win the quidditch match, not which out of her friends she might kill or which of them would kill her.

She was too young. They were all too young. Children.

The war was only a day away. She felt week in her knees, breathless like the mere task of breathing itself was exhausting. She decided not to move from her bed. Moving would require the use of her brain and she was worried that by doing so, the thoughts would return. She could still sense them, in the back of her head. But they were too distant to cause her pain. 

She fought the urge to let herself think. Couldn't push away the idea that she deserved to feel it all.

Suddenly, the room flashed white and Hermione squinted as Topsy appeared beside her bed. The witch curled further in on herself, tugging the bed covers upwards and keeping her eyes closed.

"I'm not hungry, Topsy," she groaned. "Please leave me alone." Hermione pressed her head further into the pillow, keeping her eyes firmly shut in hopes that the elf would feel as though she was intruding, and leave. But Topsy stayed and Hermione could sense the shuffling of her feet.

"The Mudblood has not eaten in three days," she said, her voice frail as she set a plate on the dresser and Hermione turned to the other side of her bed. There was a crack again and Topsy had appeared directly in front of Hermione's face. "Topsy can not leave until the Mudblood eats."

"I don't want to eat."  
"The Mudblood—"  
"My name is Hermione!" She shot up in bed, glaring at the elf that had fallen to the floor, clambering backwards and a small whimper left Topsy's mouth.

The witch sighed. "I'm sorry. Topsy— I'm sorry," Hermione brought a hand to her temple. She knew Topsy had been instructed to call her the slur and it wasn't particularly the slur that irritated her, in fact she had become desensitised to it a long time ago. But Hermione hadn't been called by her name since she arrived. It was either Granger or Mudblood, and sometimes she would find herself reciting the word 'Hermione' to herself in the shower, just in case she was to forget it.

Topsy was still on the floor, glassy eyes wide and staring at her. Hermione reached out a hand towards her and Topsy winced, clambering even further backwards. "Don't be scared of me. Please."

Topsy eyed the witches hand, gaze flicking between it and her eyes until she hesitantly took it and clambered to her feet. "Topsy is not meaning to upset the—" she paused, fumbling with her hands and then she started a new sentence. "Topsy must stay."

Hermione sighed, turning to the other side of the bed and sliding the plate off the dresser. It was only a sandwich and her stomach growled furiously, her weak limbs screaming at her but they betrayed her. Whenever she ate, no matter how much her stomach screamed for food, it wouldn't go down. But Hermione could see the sorry in Topsy's eyes, and so she picked it up and took a bite.

Her mouth instantly filled with saliva as she chewed but she knew that once she swallowed it would be turned constantly inside her stomach, every second threatening to come back up. By the time the plate was clean, she felt as though she could hardly breathe. Like everything she swallowed jammed in her throat and as soon as the elf left, she ran to the bathroom.

Hermione spent the rest of the day in bed. She didn't sleep. She just lay there, closing her eyes and pretending she was somewhere else. It varied between Hogwarts, the burrow and her home. Each one bringing a rush of happiness until her stomach growled and it was broken, hope falling to pieces like the shards of a shattered mirror.

Though this time, it wasn't her stomach that disturbed her. The door swung open but she kept her eyes closed. Hermione had left the watch in the windowsill. She didn't want to know how long she had left. Perhaps if she ignored it, time would slow or even stop. But of course, it hadn't, and now the room was dark and cold and brimming with self pity.

There was a snap and the room filled with dim light. Hermione groaned, stirring in the comfort of her covers.

"Come walk with me."

She snapped her eyes open, finding the boy in the doorframe. She hadn't seen Draco in days and yet even in that short time he looked worn. It was like when you see something everyday, you don't notice it change and she supposed when she thought of him upon her arrival compared to now, he looked drastically different. She just hadn't noticed.

"No." She groaned, turning in the sheets and returning to her still state. Hermione heard the soles of his shoes click against the floor as he approached. Weeks ago she wouldn't jumped at the opportunity to leave her room, now, she saw it as a burden. She had accepted her fate, and intended to wait out the remaining hours in the comfort of her bed.

"It wasn't a request, Granger," Draco tugged the duvet to the side, revealing her curled form huddled beneath them. Hermione scowled, snatching her head towards him. He really did look tired.

He held out and a hand and she frowned, eyes flicking between his eyes and palm. His eyebrow jerked upwards and so she took his hand and he helped her out of bed. When her legs straightened, he removed his hand, about to return it to his pocket when she wobbled and her knees bended in on themselves.

Draco whipped out his arms, hooking them under hers as she stumbled on her feet, attempting to regain balance.

"Easy, Granger." He said, slowly releasing her. "I thought you ate today."  
"I did. I'm fine." She said before he could speak any more on the subject.

"Topsy!"

The elf appeared quickly at Draco side. He seemed to throw orders at her, words too fast for her to understand as she focused on holding herself up in the absence of Draco's grip.

Within a few minutes, Topsy reappeared with a vial in her hands which Draco immediately snatched away from her. Hermione quickly understood why the elf was so unused to manors. 

Her hand was still gripping his arm and so he unstoppered the glass with his teeth and then brought it to her lips. Hermione tilted her head back, mouth parted and the liquid fell smoothly past her lips.

It was bitter and she scrunched up her nose as she swallowed. She hadn't realised Draco's other hand had made its way to the small of her back.

The witch frowned for a while, allowing the liquid to settle, the bitter tang of it still present on her tongue. "How do you feel?" He asked, studying her intently.

"Fine." She said. "Like I was before." Though Hermione didn't feel fine, she felt...good. Her head didn't ache with the constant thoughts of war. Her bones felt strong and she felt healthy. Like how she was before. Draco could use some of that, she thought, though she would never tell him.

"Are we going now?" She asked, staring up at him and he raised his eyebrows, his hand slipping from her back and the absence almost made her shiver. Draco nodded, walking to the door and she hesitated for a moment before she followed.

Hermione couldn't help but think it was a trick. And that he would do the same thing to her the last time she left her room. She paused by the door and he gazed back at her. "Granger." He said and that was enough to force her over the threshold.

Outside, the cold stung her skin. The thin material of her shirt didn't do much to keep out the cold and she wrapped her arms around herself as they began to walk down the gravel path. It was strange, the amount of times she had drawn this path, studied the hedges and each angle of the leaves. She hadn't had much time to appreciate it when she had first been there. Too busy trying to escape. But the manor really was beautiful and she turned her gaze back towards the building, shivering as her eyes landed on her window. She didn't linger, afraid she would see the ghost of herself or a shadow sat in it, a pencil in hand and head leant against the glass pane. 

And then she saw the bench and half expected him to sit down like she had watched him do everyday for months, but he turned, not sparing it a second glance. The stones dug into her bare feet, the feeling growing more absent as the cold numbed her skin and dulled her senses.

"What happens tomorrow?" She asked, breaking the silence that Draco clearly seemed contempt with. He tensed his jaw. "I don't know."

"Will they dress me in Death Eater robes?" She asked, craning her neck and glancing up at him. He kept his eyes focused forward. "Maybe." He said and Hermione sighed.

"I don't want them to undress me." She dropped her gaze, watching her stiff feet as they moved forward, her toe nails turning purple. Even with the absence of her stare, she felt him stiffen beside her.

"I can request that Topsy does that." He said.  
"Request?"  
He sighed. "I don't have much control."  
Hermione nodded. "Alright."

They carried on walking side by side through the grounds, the hedges towering over them and Hermione shivered in the winter air.

"Draco." The words were almost a whisper.  
"Yes."  
"What if I die?"

Draco turned to her now and she did the same, both of them pausing and staring at each other. His expression was stern and then seemed to turn somewhat to concern. "Your lips are blue, Granger." He reached to his neck and she pursed her lips, noticing that all feeling in them had vanished.

Before she could blink, Draco had swung his arms around her, a wave of black following as he fastened his cloak around her neck. It was miles too long for her, bunching up at the floor where it would usually flow down his calves.

His hand lingered there and they watched a each other, spirals of mist forming where they breathed. And then he turned and dropped his arms back at his sides. "You won't."

They walked through the grounds for another hour, mostly in silence with a few comments made here and there. He hadn't asked for his cloak back and Hermione had only remembered she was wearing it when she was already back, locked in her room.

She entered the shower slowly, the water singeing her frost bitten feet as she attempted to move at least one of her toes. It was strange how he had reacted to her tinged lips but her aching bare feet didn't concern him. Perhaps he didn't know she wasn't given shoes but it would have been hard not to notice and she doubted he would be willing to give up his shoes and so probably just ignored it.

The water ran in lines across her skin, thundering down across her tense shoulders. The door was misted and she brought s finger towards it, dragging her pointed in lines across the glass.

H E R M I O N E

She sighed, stepping backwards so her back collided with the wall. As she closed her eyes, the images resurfaced, the images of Harry. Of Harry with a knife in his heart and Hermione the one bearing it. The flash of green in Ron's kind eyes before he collapsed at her feet, empty eyes staring back at her. Whispering.

Traitor.

Murderer.

Death Eater.

She sunk against the shower wall, setting herself on the floor. She brought her knees tightly towards her chest, pressing her forehead against them as she wrapped her arms around her shins.


	19. Nineteen

A pair of rough hands tugged at Hermione's arm while another tore the bed covers from her. The fabric pooled at the end of the bed and Hermione found herself quite a bit more exposed than she would have liked.

The witch abruptly blinked her eyes, sleep still blurring her vision as she gazed out the window. The sun hadn't even fully risen yet and dawn still hung over the grounds.

"You're coming with us, sweetheart."  
Hermione snatched her focus back to the pair of hands and then the face of the man they belonged to. She didn't recognise him or the man next to him that had now grabbed her other arm but they were grim and smirking as she struggled. Death Eaters.

Hermione yanked her arm backwards. She was faster where they were stronger, but speed wasn't much use when you had already been caught. Their grip didn't falter as she tugged, grimacing as her eyes met theirs before she could avoid it.

She was lifted from her bed, feet dangling above the floor as they held her at the height of their elbows. They were extremely tall, and her arms ached with the weight of her hovering body.

Something in her throat caught. Like a cough that was almost impossible to hold in. To swallow down. Hermione wanted to call for help. Call out for someone. Call for Draco.

But what if he had organised her abduction,of sorts, had given these men permission to steal her from her bed in nothing but her flimsy pyjamas?

Draco.

She wanted to scream his name but her mouth wouldn't open. Surely her pride wasn't more important to her. 

Draco.

The name was pacing across her mouth as they neared the door, she kicked and flailed her arms but the men were too broad to even notice her feeble attempts of escape. Her actions weren't even an inconvenience in their firm grip.

Draco.

The door swung open and Hermione braced herself. She didn't want to know how many others were waiting on the other side. But the men stopped and Hermione opened her eyes.

Draco stood in the doorframe, jaw clenched and chest rising and falling with quickened pace.

"What is the meaning of this?" She had never heard him speak so formally, with such importance. It made her want to bow.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see the two men turn to each other. "Well, Sir, she is to be fighting today," the men said, all traces of a smirk vanished from their features.

Sir. Hermione stifled a frown.

Draco raised an eyebrow,keeping his stance firm. "Thats later this evening."

The two men turned to one another again, a smile growing on their lips and a breathy laugh left one of their mouths. Hermione wasn't sure whose, her eyes were still trained on Draco.

"We was hoping, Sir," they lowered their voice now, " to get a little fun out of her before she gets herself killed."

Illiterate bastards, she thought.

The skin around Draco's jaw rippled and for a moment, Hermione thought he wasn't going to say anything, let them pass and do whatever ungodly things they had planned before his interruption.

And then he spoke, the task to unclench his jaw clearly a struggle as he bared his teeth.  
"Put her down."

Hermione felt the grip on her arms loosen, but her feet didn't meet the ground. She turned back to Draco and his eyes flickered briefly to hers before glaring back at the men.

"Now."

She was released and fell a heap on the floor. The men muttered apologies and left. The door clicked shut behind them and during the moment of deafening silence, she thought was alone. Though when a hand appeared just in front of her face, she knew she had been mistaken.

Hermione didn't move backwards, didn't wince away, for she knew the hand outstretched towards her. Had studied it for several months, the way it moved, how it held a wand and the way it had felt on hers when she hadn't quite managed to master the movements.

She looked up. Draco was staring down at her, bent down slightly so that his hand was at a comfortable height for her to take.

"Are you going to take my hand?" 

She didn't reply, and Draco began to move away before Hermione slid her hand onto his. His gaze fell on hers as he wrapped his long fingers around the side of her hand.

It was completely engulfed by his, warmth seeping into her skin that had gone numb from the cutting of her circulation.

Draco hauled Hermione up to her feet with more strength than necessary, her frail form nearly falling into him before she managed to steady herself.

His hand lingered on hers, his thumb slowly smoothing the back of her hand so softly that she doubted he knew he was doing it. 

"Are you alright?" His voice had suddenly become soft, his stance relaxed and less intimidating. Hermione frowned.

"Are you asking because you care or because if I get harmed, you are held accountable?" As she spoke, he swallowed and stood up straight again, releasing her hand and shoving his into his pocket. 

Her arm fell limp beside her. "How am I expected to fight amongst men that try to—" she paused, sighing and looking down. "I don't want to fight." Hermione looked back up at him, eyes meeting his.

"Don't make me."

He sighed, then turned away. "You know I don't have a choice."

"Yes you do, Draco. You just decide to ignore it." 

He turned to her now, eyes swirling with rage. "Do not pretend to know me, Granger," he snarled.

"I do know you. I have lived in your house for a year, studied you every day since I arrived. You are the only person I have interacted with or even seen and you expect me not to know you?" She scoffed. 

"I may be a tiny piece of your life, but you are mine entirely."

Draco was looking at her now and she stared straight back.

"There are things you don't know." Draco turned away and Hermione stepped forward, her bare feet hardly a patter on the floor as she placed herself before him.

Hermione told herself this was necessary. Necessary to put on an act, a desperate attempt to get him to help her. Or perhaps that was all just an excuse. She would be arrogant if she was to ignore the feelings buried deep in her mind. The ones she had decided upon her arrival were for a different boy.

She took a small breath, reaching out her hand and taking his into her own. His head turned back to her.

"So tell me." Hermione spoke softly, barely above a whisper and it took a few seconds to gather the courage to look at him.

As she suspected, Draco was staring down at her, head slightly ducked and so close their noses could have been touching if she straightened her back.

They were breathing the same air now, spearmint breath rolling from his mouth and into hers, his taste so fresh in her mind that it could have been on her tongue again.

Her skin prickled with memories. Memories in which her skin was dappled with icy water drops, memories of a tree pushing so far into her back it had left her with tiny scars. Memories of him.

How he touched with such care even through his desperation. The way he felt. The way he—

Hermione stumbled back. Draco was staring wide eyed at her and frowning, his hands still held up in front of him. 

"I saw you in the room," he said, walking towards the window and staring idly out of it. "The one at the end of the hall in this wing. I've never been inside before but I know what they do in there. The first time I actually saw it was in your memories."

"You mean when you sliced my brain to pieces so badly that you caused a nose bleed?"

"I didn't want to do that."  
"So why did you? You say you don't have a choice, Draco. But you didn't have to do that to me." She began to walk towards him.

"I did."  
"No. You didn't. But the worse part is, you enjoyed it."

Draco turned to her now, watching her approach him.

"How can you say that?" His voice was frail as if after all of her insults, she had finally managed to hurt him. 

She laughed, shaking her head as she placed herself next to him and gazed outside. "I saw you smiling, you were so eager. I bet you wanted me to refuse you the key." 

"It had to be believable."  
Hermione turned to him. "What?"  
"It doesn't matter, Granger."  
"Tell me."  
"It isn't a good enough excuse anyway. It wouldn't right anything."  
"Draco—" 

He shot her a glance and she decided better than to press the matter. She didn't exactly want him to realise the amount of things he was telling her that he probably shouldn't be.

"That room. I believe it's where they make the collars," he said.

Hermione frowned and watched as his eyes danced across the window, unfocussed as if he was having a debate with himself inside his head. "You'll be put in one."

"Then I will refuse. I will not allow them to treat me like a dog." She didn't have to hide her surprise to their plan, there was none. It was dehumanising, yes, but she knew for a fact Voldemort had done worse.

Shaking his head, Draco laughed. "You can't refuse."  
"I—"  
"Do you know what they do?" he asked, turning his head to face her.

His eyes were like a storm, misted almost entirely over with grey but his face wasn't as strained as it usually appeared. Like he had finally allowed his muscles to relax.

The witch shook her head. She hadn't really expected them to do anything. Just for show, to degrade her even more.

"They take away your will."  
Hermione's stomach sunk. "My will?"  
"You will become completely obedient. Unable to disobey."  
She felt as though her heart was rising up her throat and beating uncontrollably behind her voice box, causing it to falter. "Disobey who?"

"The Death Eater who puts it on you."  
"Do you know who that is?"

The room was silent but his eyes spoke a thousand words. They always did. It was always his eyes.

"It's me, Granger."

Hermione inhaled, her mouth slightly parted. It was now that she would find out who he was, truly. Finally, she would understand him. He had a choice. She was his choice.

Would he decide to completely control her, she would have known there was nothing of him left. But she didn't have to lose her will, if he would only command her not to.

"Why you?" was all she managed.  
"Because you're my responsibility. And because I was the one to train you, we are duelling partner and therefore I need to be able to control you."

The words stung.

"You will be a linked to Voldemort. Similar to the dark mark, though it isn't bound in flesh and can be removed."

"But you can remove it."  
"Granger—"  
"And don't you dare tell me you don't have a choice."

He turned back to the window. Hermione knew there was something he wasn't telling her but decided against asking for her own good.

"Why are you telling me this?"  
He shrugged. "I thought you should be prepared."  
She nodded. It wasn't a necessary thing for him to do.

"You won't let those...men get me, will you?" She felt pathetic asking but she wouldn't be able to defend herself with that collar wrapped around her neck.

"No."

"You will have to protect me now." The words burned her tongue in an act of protest.

"I know." He said firmly.

"Will you?"

There was a brief silence and then he sighed. 

"Always." The word was a whisper as it faded into the air along with Draco himself. He was gone, a cloud of swirling grey hovering where he had stood as though he had left behind his very shadow. 

The day moved fast with Hermione's dread and soon the dull haze of the evening had fallen over the manor grounds, heavy fog smothered across the outside of her window.

Topsy hadn't come with her lunch and she was grateful. Draco was the last person she had seen, and he left before she could ask when she was leaving or how to prepare.

From her brief encounter with the Death Eaters that morning, Hermione could tell Draco had a lot more authority over the army than he let on.

They had addressed him with 'Sir' and followed his orders. Draco was only seventeen and yet he had complete control over full grown men. Death Eaters at that. She supposed she should be grateful, considering he now had to protect her but Hermione couldn't help but wonder the things he must have had to do in order to climb the ranks so fast and with such success.

Draco emerged from behind the door as it opened. Hermione watched him in the reflection of the window's glass, face mainly impassive though she didn't doubt if she were to turn around and gaze into his eyes, they would tell her something completely different.

"I'm not hungry," she said dully, eyes still focussed on the glass.

"I haven't brought you food, considering you have been refusing to eat it."

She turned around to find not a tray in his hand, but layers of smooth, black fabric slung over his arm.

Her eyes flicked to his. "My robes?"  
Draco nodded and held out his arm as the witch slowly approached, eyeing the layers.

Looped between his fingers was a mask. She decided after all that she was grateful for it; at least that way the Order wouldn't know who they were fighting.

"I asked for Topsy, but the Dark Lord insists a Death Eater dress you."

Hermione slid the first layer from his arm, holding it up in front of her.

"I assumed I would have been your choice."  
She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."  
"I can get someone else—"  
"No." Hermione's eyes darted to his and for a moment they stared in silence.

"I won't dress you but I have to wait."  
"Alright." She said simply with a shrug and then pulled her jumper up and over her head.

"Christ, Granger." He snatched his head in the opposite direction. Though from where she stood, Hermione could still see the pink tingeing his cheeks and his neck dip as he swallowed.

She shrugged, even knowing he couldn't see the gesture. "I don't own my body anymore. Not really. If I ever did while I was here, I definitely don't after tonight."

Draco turned his head back to her, his eyes solely focussed on hers.

"I will not own you, Granger."  
"You may not think so, but you will. I will do as you say, when you say, unable to make my own decisions. I'll be as good as a dog." Hermione began to tug off her jeans.   
"I won't tell you what to do. I won't give you instructions."

"Maybe not. But perhaps one day, you'll get just a little bit curious."

"Granger—"  
"Or—"

"Stop!"

Hermione winced, discarding her jeans on the floor. Draco had his jaw tensed to such an extent, she swore she could hear the grit of his teeth breaking under the pressure.

"I won't."  
"Promise me."  
He didn't hesitate nor think, and Hermione knew the words were only an attempt to change the subject. "I promise."

Hermione curled her toes. She was once told it stopped you from crying but as Draco began to swim in her vision and her eyes, sting, she presumed it was just another lie.

A single tear slid down her cheek, collecting in the corner of her mouth. Another one followed.

Draco set the rest of the robes on the bed and began to approach her. Neither seemed fazed of her exposed state as she stood in front of him clothed in nothing but underwear.

Draco stopped in front of her and she craned her neck upwards in order to see him.

His face remained expressionless but staring into his eyes she felt... safe. Reassured. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial. She didn't bother asking for the potions name when he held it out in front of her, just plucked it from his hands and let the whole of It's contents slide down her throat.

"Turn around. I have to change," he said when she handed back the vial.  
"Are u joking?" She raised her eyebrows, looking down at herself to exaggerate her current state but his expression didn't budge.  
"Turn around, Granger."

She scoffed and spun around, though his reflection was still visible in the window even with the distance. His eyes dropped to below her back, and when they lingered, she spoke,stiffling a scoff.

"Doesn't this work both ways?" She said and Draco nodded, turning around himself.

She watched his cloak fall to the ground in a heap by his feet. The way the muscles in his back dipped and rippled as he tugged off his shirt and discarded it next to the puddle of black on the floor.

She didn't think it was possible, but he was even paler than she remembered. She hadn't forgotten what it felt like to dig her nails into his back.

He was unbuckling his belt when Hermione realised the rest of her clothes sat next to him on the bed.

Briefly, her eyes shut in sync with a deep breath, and then she slowly turned around, familiarising herself with his bare skin before deciding to speak. "You have the rest of my clothes."

Draco turned his head, just able to see her facing him before he returned his gaze forward again, leaving her staring at the back of his head, though it was his bare back she was mainly focussed on. "I thought I told you to turn around." The clinking of his belt didn't stop as his fingers continued to busy themselves near his hips.

He made it clear that he had no intent of moving. "Fine," Hermione muttered and began to walk towards him. He must have heard her steps, because he turned just before she reached the bed.

Hermione's breath hitched, eyes instantly darting downwards, across his front and then gazing at the loose belt and jeans tugged open at the unzipped centre, revealing the underneath.

Was everything he wore black?

His stomach was much different to his back. Contoured and chiselled still, but littered with tiny specks of silver. Some larger than others, raised lines of purple running across his ribs and stomach. There was hardly anywhere that didn't have a scar.

When Draco shifted, Hermione realised she had definitely been staring too long and quickly averted her eyes to his. His forehead creased where he raised one of his eyebrows. He definitely noticed.

The stack of black fabric sat on the bed and Hermione scoffed at his smug appearance, dismissing him as she reached for her robes.

Draco didn't move, didn't clear himself from her path and when she reached towards the bed, their skin brushed. She felt him stiffen against her, the muscle in his stomach contract. She only wished she could see his face.

He pulled his trousers to the floor, stepping out of them and purposely towards her. She refused to entertain him and didn't allow her gaze to stray away from the bundle of clothes in her hands.

They faced each other as they dressed. The first thing she put on were black slacks. They hugged her legs, cinched at her waist and the ends disappeared into a pair of tall boots. She wore a blouse, tucked into her trousers and the top few buttons left open under Draco's request. She presumed the collar had to touch skin in order to work.

Draco reached for the cloak sprawled across her bed. "Wait," she said, strolling towards her wardrobe and tugging open the doors.

Amongst the layers of bright coloured fabric, hung a sheet of a black. The witch pulled it from the wardrobe, examining it before bringing it to Draco.

She wasn't sure why she had decided to wear his cloak instead of the one provided for her, but he raised his eyebrow in a gesture of recognition.

She was thankful that he didn't make any remarks, or ask any questions, just brought his arms around her and fastened the cloak at her neck.

The one provided would have no doubt fit her better.

The sky outside was almost completely dark now and Hermione was sure that from behind, with a hood up, she could blend with the sky in her attire of all black.

Suddenly, Draco hissed and clutched his arm.  
"We have to go," he said. The slight nod of her head was the only way he could tell she had heard him.

A small charm emerged from the darkness of his pocket, he held the chain above it, his other hand hovering in front of the necklace as it swung. Hermione brought her hand towards it, reflecting his palm on the other side.

Draco looked at her through his eyebrows. "Ready?"  
"No."

He pushed his hand against hers, trapping the charm between their palms and as he intertwined their fingers, the world began to shatter into a million pieces.


	20. Twenty

Her stomach turned, even with the absence of a meal, and she watched as the familiarity of her room swirled and warped into a pool of patterns.

The walls were the first to melt away, the destruction climbing upwards and taking the ceiling with it.

She watched the view from the window turn to a single smudge of black and the dim white glow of the lights outside strung lines through it.

The bed crumbled altogether along with the floor and then her feet were stood on nothing. Everything around her was new black, still hints of dirty brown scattered through it.

Her room had turned into a void. All the familiarity vanished. All accept the boy in front of her.

His eyes hadn't seemed to have wandered as when she turned to look at him, he was already staring back.

Hermione felt drawn to him. Like the last of her hope lived within Draco himself. She supposed that was true.

He looked peaceful, eyes boring into hers, hands still clutching each other hard enough to crush bone and fingertips pressing into skin. The pain was distant in the chaos, but Hermione knew she would feel it later.

Shards of the darkest green began to spring towards her. Hermione wasn't sure whether the worlds transformation actually made any sound at all, from Draco's expression it didn't, but her ears roared with intensity and she was glad, she wouldn't be able to bare silence.

Soon the old walls of her room was replaced with trees, green grass for as long as she could see took the place of marble and in the distance behind her, a building made entirely of red bricks stood tall.

Hermione fell to the floor, limbs trembling, stomach turning but she gave it no thought considering she had nothing to bring back up anyway.

The grass below her was damp and forgiving as the ground squelched under her weight. Her hands were pressed into the ground in front of her, and in front of a pair of shoes.

Hermione followed the path of the body, starting at his shoes and then landing on his eyes.

She had recognised him when her eyes grazed his hands but she continued up to his face nonetheless.

Draco was stood in front of her, unbothered by her position and already consulting with a few men.

The sound of low voices hummed through the air and she didn't have to look around to understand just how large the numbers of Death Eaters present were.

A ring of dull silver was exchanged between the two parties and Hermione stifled a shiver.

Before she could blink, a hand had grabbed the top of her arm, yanking her upwards and she stood, searching the area for the men that had tried to take her the previous morning. But the perimeter around them was empty and so Hermione turned back to Draco to find him staring sternly at her.

She followed his outstretched arm to the place where it gripped hers.

"What—"  
"Lift up your hair." He said firmly, face guarded with his usual facade. She would admit, it was weird seeing his mask in use again considering it had failed him so many times recently back at the manor. Though now, it was quite convincing. 

Hermione brought her hands to her neck, collecting her short hair in her palms and lifting it to her ears. The collar snapped open with a clunk and Draco position the open ring around the bare skin of her neck.

She could feel the dark magic radiating from it, it stung her skin even at a proximity and in a few seconds, it was about to be bound to her. She couldn't control it. Couldn't refuse. Her time was up.

She watched him, eyes a silent plea with his. They swirled with emotion, with consideration and...sadness? Regret?

And then the world narrowed down to one moment. One sound. 

The metal clicked and clamped shut. The weight of it around Hermione's neck was sudden.

It clung to her skin, wrapped itself around her neck like a possessive dragon guarding its treasure. But she was no treasure. She was a pawn.

Then she felt it.

A rush of cold shot across her neck, running down her spine and then up into her skull. It riddled its way through her head, freezing each pathway through her mind and Hermione felt herself become numb. Empty.

Even through her clouded vision, she could see Draco shiver.

And then it stopped. Her mind relaxed and she exhaled, the air coming out shakily and misting the place in front of her. She still felt cold, the distant feeling engraved into her mind.

Hermione was the first one to speak. "When do we fight?" The words left her lips a quiver, wavering at each syllable but loud enough that Draco re-focussed his eyes.

"When they come."  
Hermione turned the sea of trees in front of them, the contents of what lay behind them hidden in the darkness and shelter of the canopy.

"Why would the Order come here?" From what Hermione could see, there wasn't much here they would want and from their meetings, she knew they wouldn't fight for nothing.

Draco turned around, eyeing the building behind them in distant thought. His eyes seemed absent but he spoke nonetheless.

"That building," he started and Hermione followed his gaze, "there's at least two hundred people inside. Muggle-borns, sympathisers of the Order and their cause, members of the Order themselves."

"And they're coming to save them." Hermione's voice mimicked Draco's eyes, distant in thought and some sort of realisation.

Then the witch turned to him and frowned. "But you know they're coming. How did you know they would come tonight?"

Draco turned to look at her now. "The members of the Order aren't as loyal as you think. You would be surprised how quickly someone would abandon their cause at the first glance of money."

Hermione stifled a gasp. "There's a spy in the Order?"  
Draco nodded. "More than one."  
She tried to brush off her curiosity, but she needed to know who would betray them, especially considering there wasn't a single person she could think to accuse.

"Who?" There was a brief pause as Draco seemed to consider and then he shrugged and looked back at her. Hermione knew what he had considered; the fact that she would never escape to tell anyone anyway.

He named a few people that Hermione wasn't familiar with and then he said something that encouraged the bile to rise in her throat, her stomach to turn and her skin to prickle.

"Shacklebolt."

Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"But... Kingsley can't be a spy for Voldemort."  
"Trust me, Granger, he is."  
"He's the leader of the resistance. The man in charge of everything that happens with the Order and every person inside the movement. You've made a mistake."

She refused to believe it. She would have known, and If not her, someone else. A man with such importance couldn't have changed alliance and gone unnoticed. Not for so long.

"There's no mistake, Granger. I meet with the man every Sunday. He's our main source."

She felt sick. She couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't warn them. Harry, Ron, Ginny they were all going to die in this war. 

Hermione halted her thoughts. Could he read her mind? After all, they were linked.

"No, I can't read your mind."

Hermione snatched her head towards Draco, the crease between her eyes so deep it could have become permanent had she frowned any longer.

"You should think more quietly, I can almost hear the cogs in your brain turning. I don't need a Collar to know what your thinking, you're easier to read than you might think."

Hermione wasn't used to having to hide her thoughts. She let her expressions run freely. In a way, she admired Draco. Envied him. The way he was able to keep almost anyone guessing. He had even been too difficult of a puzzle for Hermione Granger to solve. Though sometimes, she wasn't so sure she had failed. But any understanding of him she got was under his own permission. When he wasn't willing, it was almost impossible to pry any sort of emotion from him, but then he would relax and she would extract as much information from him as she could in the time he allowed.

"So the Order have no idea they are walking into a trap." It was hardly a question but Draco shook his head in response anyway.

The air began to grow thicker and then beyond the trees and in the darkness, sparks of light appeared. Each just after the other, illuminating the Forrest for tiny fractions of seconds.

All it took was a raise of his hand and every single Death Eater in sight was watching Draco. He was shouting orders and groups of men scurried quietly around them.

Some headed for the building while others ran towards the edges of the grass and lined the makeshift wall of trees, almost invisible in their robes.

Each man she saw had his mask hung over his face and Draco brought his upwards, resting it on the top of his head as he reached for hers.

Before he could pull it over her face, Hermione placed her hands on top of his, holding the mask still in the air and he frowned. The flashing beyond the border of trees had stopped and Hermione's hearts beat so loudly in her ears that any other sound was a mere whisper in comparison.

Before, Hermione wasn't opposed to the idea of death, not if it was in the name of something she believed in. But now, as she stood helplessly in the middle of a battle-field, dressed in black and watching her fate begin to unfold, she felt something change.

She wanted to blame it on her instinct of survival, that she wasn't just selfish.

There was a small part of her that thought maybe Draco had an influence on her thoughts. That if he didn't want her die, she wouldn't want to either.

"Draco, don't let me die."

The world around them burst into action,the flashing of colours and new found chaos spreading through the field.

Draco glanced to the trees and Hermione followed his gaze, there were spells flying, members of the Order glancing wildly at each other in shock and confusion, unaware of their leaders betrayal that had led them into the ambush. 

Then Hermione's world flashed black and she was being dragged backwards. The mask wasn't as heavy as she had expected, but her breaths grew shallow and forced as it fanned out against the inside of the mask and back across her face.

Draco had his own mask pulled over his face too now and he was bringing her towards the towering building. She hadn't seen that many Death Eaters go inside, the majority were on the fields, completely outnumbering the amount of Order members.

Draco burst through the doors, startling a few Death Eaters lining the back wall but even when they raised their wands, Draco didn't hesitate or slow.

He dragged her through a long corridor, heading towards the left side of the building, their muddled footsteps pounding against the stone floor. Then she was tripping over the concrete stairs, fumbling downward behind Draco and then they were in a room.

At first glance it would have appeared empty, and it did to Hermione, but Draco was staring somewhere behind her and when she tried to turn he grabbed her face.

"Stay here. I'll come to get you when it's over."  
"But I'm meant to fight with you." It wasn't a protest, merely a statement and partially a question.  
"It's better for you here. Besides, I think I'm better off without you, Granger, you would just slow me down." A hint of his usual playful tone had returned. She knew it was forced for her benefit but appreciated it nonetheless.

Draco released her and spoke one last time before disappearing behind up the stairs.

"Guard them." He had said and something inside her mind stirred. She reached into her pocket, clutching the thick wood of her wand feeling her magic thrum violently through it, fingertips buzzing with power.

Then she turned around. There was a cage as long as the room full of tired faces and each of them gazed up at her in a silent plea. They wore ragged clothes and through the tears, Hermione could see the sharp angles of almost bare bones. She was glad she didn't recognise any. 

None of them spoke to her, and the urge to start a conversation tugged at the witch. What would she even tell them? That it was going to be alright? Reassure them? The truth was, Hermione was just as clueless as them.

They were hardly different, she had been held against her will, kept completely clueless and only now had she been let out, just to be controlled. She felt guilty comparing herself to them. At least she had been fed, the people in the cage looked as good as dead, there was a man in the corner curled up on the cold floor, completely still and Hermione didn't want to know whether he was sleeping or... worse.

Should she lift her mask up?? No. She wouldn't be able to explain in time and what good would that do anyway?

There were noises sounding from above her, crackling of fresh spells and the thus of bodies dropping to the floor. Someone had reached the building.

Hermione's breaths grew shallow, the sound of nearing footsteps almost enough to render her unconscious. Her hand gripped her wand, knuckles no doubt turning paler than herself.

Then, the footsteps stopped and the room stayed empty. The prisoners behind her muttered what seemed to be a mix of talk and silent prayers. But before she could relax, a figure emerged from the doorway, wand outstretched towards her and knees slightly crouched in the stance of an sly animal.

She froze. The person in front of her was Neville.

Hermione kept her wand at her side and strangely, she felt no urge to use it. Perhaps the collar was defected.

Neville didn't cast any spells, just stood warily before her, eyebrows knitted together as his eyes darted to her face and then her unused wand.

He began to slowly approach the cage and still, she felt nothing. She was in control. The collar hadn't worked. She could go home.

Slowly, Hermione placed a hand on the side of her mask, wrapping her fingers around it and keeping her wand hand by her side as to not startle Neville.

He was still now, watching her intently, wand still aimed at her chest.

Then Hermione tugged the mask upwards and it clattered to the floor as she let it tumble out of her grip.

Neville's eyes grew wide and his arm fell limp to his side.  
"Hermione?"

The soft sound of his voice eased her body, the familiarity soothing her fractured mind but the numbness was still there, distant, but there.

"N-Neville." Her voice cracked with each syllable and then before she could do anything more, she was pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped so tightly around her, that she struggled even more to breathe and as if reflex, her arms were around him in an instant.

It had been so long since she had hugged anyone, felt the heat of someone else, heard the voice of someone and it soothe them instead encourage a wave of fear and anticipation.

"We all thought you were dead!" Neville released her, keeping hold of her two shoulders and watching her intently as if she may not have been real.

"I've been at Malfoy Manor," She said, voice light and hazy with happiness.  
"We never stopped looking for you."   
She felt the sudden urge to collapse and just cry.  
"As soon as we noticed you were gone, we never stopped looking."  
We.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Harry. Ron. Ginny—"  
"They're fine," Neville said, turning away from her and walking towards the gate of the cell.  
"Do you know how to open this?"  
"No. Sorry, Neville."  
"That's okay, Hermione. We'll find a way."

It had been so long since she had heard her name, she wanted to tell him to say it again and again and never stop.

It was too good to be true. Him, here, now. But often when things seemed too good to be true, they were.

Neville reached for the lock on the cell, fingers skimming the metal and before Hermione could think, her arm was up and a spell was flying through the air.

Neville turned towards her, eyes wide with something between shock and betrayal.

Her spell hit him square in the chest and then after a second of silence, he fell. Hermione ran to where he lay sprawled out on the floor, dropping to her knees and dragging his limp body on her lap.

There was blood seeping through the thin fabric of his clothes. Everywhere she looked, there was blood.

"No, no, Neville. I'm so sorry," she whimpered, running her hands along the blood soaked clothes and pressing on each wound. But there were too many, and Hermione hadn't been taught the countercurses for the spells she had learnt.

A single tear slid down the side of Neville's face. His breathing had gradually slowed and now he just stared at her. 

"Why?" The word was quiet, frail, broken as it passes his lips and then his head lolled to the side.

"No!" Hermione shook him from where he lay in her arms, his limbs falling with each desperate jut. He couldn't be dead. She brought his face to her again. His last tear still sat in a puddle at his jaw, the only sign that he had been alive at all.

She hadn't even given him an explanation. she didn't answer his question. There had been no time. He had trusted her and she betrayed him. 

She killed him.

The guilt coursed through her all at once, hitting her like a wave and she found herself overwhelmed to a point where she couldn't even sob. Hermione was just too exhausted. The fact that she knew she couldn't live with the weight of it heavy in her head. She knew what she had to do.

She realised that Draco hadn't ordered her to protect herself, he had told her to guard the cell.

She felt hollow. Like she had nothing left inside of her and in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to join Neville. She couldn't do this again. Death must have more forgiving than this. 

Each one of her muscles refused the plan forged in her head to stand and charge up the stairs in an act of protest before Draco could command her to stop, so she fell limp against the bars of the cell, Neville's lifeless body still clutched in her arms.

That was where she lay, staring down at Neville, one hand clutching his body to keep him securely in her arms, and the other playing with outgrown hair.

There were footsteps descending the stairs, echoing off the rutted walls of the room but Hermione didn't move. The world outside has gone quiet, all for the exception of low talk.

It hadn't even been an hour, and yet Neville's corpse was beginning to smell.

Draco emerged from behind the corner and as he took in the scene, he froze. She dragged her eyes from Neville's and up to him. He watched her, eyes wide.

Then he stepped forward, slowly at first as if not to startle her, and then he crouched down.  
He slowly began to slide an arm under Neville's back, and then another under his legs.

"Can I?" he asked and when she nodded, he rose, Neville's body sagging against his shoulder as he walked across the room and into a corner too dark for her to see into.

When he re-emerged, his arms were empty.

"It's going to be okay, Granger." Draco lifted up her arm, wrapping it around his neck for her and then sliding his own behind her back. He used his other arm to scoop up her legs.

"Everything's going to be okay." 

She leaned into his shoulder, focussing on his breathing and not the last look that Neville had given her before every muscle in his body fell limp.

She couldn't think about it. Couldn't let the pain in though she knew she deserved it. Only a few more hours until the pain would be gone, she told herself. 

In the darkness of the stairway, Draco's hand found her hair and as he ran his fingers through it, Hermione sunk into sleep.


	21. Twenty one

Tw: mention of suicide.

Hermione woke to the familiar comfort of her bed sheets. Her weary eyes opened in a row of slow blinks. It was still dark outside, stars lit up the ,what she presumed to be, early night sky. But when she sat up, her head felt heavy, heavy enough that she nearly fell back and resumed her place on the pillow.

But it wasn't her head. It was her neck.

The icy prick of metal bit into her skin and she snatched her hands upwards, clawing at the collar and trying to slip her fingers beneath it to possibly pry it off. But the collar was skin-tight, hugging her neck so tightly it was as though she was slowly suffocating.

In a way she was...with grief. The memory hit her so hard that she had to dig her hands into the duvet in order to steady herself and avoid falling backwards. Neville was dead. And it had been at her hands.

Her bed had never looked so inviting, the urge to lie back down and sleep for the rest of her days was stronger than it had ever been before, but she couldn't allow herself such pleasure. There were questions she needed answering. Ones she had been deprived of. She deserved to know considering she was at least part Death Eater now. Surely that gave her the slightest bit entitlement.

The floor fanned out across the bare soles of her feet, like an icy breath, as she slid off the side of the bed. She swayed for a moment, using the moment to try and pry her mind away from the painful memory of Neville's dead eyes. She hadn't even closed them.

Her legs led her to her door, each action hardly thought out in the void that was now her mind and to her surprise, the door opened with ease. She supposed that the collar granted insurance that even given the chance, she wouldn't try to leave the manor and she didn't have the resources to kill anyone to do it anyway. She trudged through the doorway, footsteps still light and inaudible even in her carelessness.

Part of her wanted to leave her thoughts be, almost guilty for thinking she had the right to give herself peace after doing such a thing. She didn't deserve it, she deserved to feel every bit of despair.

The thought of his body, discarded in the corner of that room, no doubt already smelling, and the poor souls who would have to live with it, was too much for her to bare. They would see the blood-stained floor, and they wouldn't need to see the body in the corner to know it was there: the smell would be enough. And they knew Hermione had done it. Every single prisoner, apart from the bodies lied across the floor who Hermione couldn't tell were even breathing, had witnessed her murder Neville.

Hermione couldn't bare the feeling of the metal ring around her much longer, draining her mind of anything warm, clouding her own conscious with a confusing fog. She supposed it went nicely with the emptiness of her hollow chest.

Then she realised, even if she was to escape, she could never go back. Not with the death of Neville on her hands. No one would know any better, probably welcome her back with open arms but she wouldn't be able to handle it.

Would they understand? If she was to tell them she had no choice, no will, would they ever forgive her. The thought of Harry's face, of the whole Orders reaction. Even if they could, she could never forgive herself.

She would have to live with it for the rest of her miserable life. Whether it be spent with her friends or with Voldemort, building up the number of new deaths she would have to live with.

This was no life for someone like her. Anyone at all. Pain had become her friend, guilt; an ally. Hermione couldn't live this life. Not any longer. Murder had been the last straw.

Suddenly the questions in her head subsided. The idea of finding someone to talk to becoming less important. There was no point. No point in anything. Nothing would ever feel as bad as this. 

Even death would greet her with more mercy, she was sure.

Hermione neared the banister of the main stairway. She had walked to the middle of the Manor, hallways empty as always and her mind cold and numb. She could hardly think, only feel. She could feel the cold in her chest like there was a low winter wind coursing through it, slow but bitter and a constant reminder of what she had done. There was no escaping the feeling, the sorrow.

She pressed her ribs against the railing, running an absent finger across the top as she peered down to the floor below. It was a far drop, one she was sure no one would survive. With a tired sigh, she pushed herself upwards, raising one leg onto the banister and then dragging the other up after it.

Hermione swayed slightly, like the storm inside her had effect on her balance. She didn't feel fear, she didn't feel anything. Which made it all the worse. She wanted to feel something, something other than empty. She hadn't even cried. Even if she wanted to, didn't think there would be any tears to fall.

She already felt dead. Surely it was better to be dead and feel nothing, than to be alive and feel as though you were already deceased inside.

Neville had told her that the Order thought she was dead. Why should she waste their grieving? In their minds she was nothing but a corpse of a girl they used to know, a girl they had called their friend and the friend of the chosen one. The girl who had been taken and killed and who they would say they'd remember but soon forget. They had already grieved her.

Her toes wrapped around the banister, feet bent in shape with the curve and studied the marble floor beneath. It was practically inviting. Hermione wondered who would find her. Would they laugh? Scold her for being so pathetic? She doubted anyone in this house would mourn her. Her mind slipped to Draco. Something about him was different, she had noticed, but tried not to dwell. If he was to find her body, she expected he wouldn't react, just be ordered the mess to be cleaned up as though her death was nothing but a nuisance.

With one final thought to her friends, she lifted one leg of the banister and slowly closed her eyes. It would all be over in a few seconds, she told herself, allowing her body to tilt forward. Her breath hitched.

Then she was tugged harshly backwards, her back colliding with something solid but alive. Two arms wrapped around her stomach and she jolted due to what she supposed was the body behind her colliding with a wall.

She could feel the quickened rhythm of a heart beat against her back, the shuddering rises of a chest as warm breath brushed her neck, failing to reach the skin under the collar. She wasn't released, if anything, the arms around her tightened.

"Granger, never do that again." The voice was unmistakably Draco's, firm and commanding in its usual tone of superiority. His steady but rushed breaths disturbed the pieces of hair near her jaw.

Hermione didn't reply, just sank absentmindedly further into his chest, appreciating the silence that was only disturbed by his light breaths against her ear. When his grip loosened slightly, she turned around. 

His skin was pale even in the dim light of the manor, so white that it was almost see through and the deep purple crescents hung even more evident underneath his eyes. 

He stared back at her. The hand that was lingering on her arm dropped to his side and he tensed his jaw.

"Tell me you understand," he said sternly.

"You told me you wouldn't give me orders." She knew that his command had been less plea than order. That it didn't matter how she answered, she could never try anything of the sort again, not so long as she wore the collar. Well, the collar mostly wore her.

"This is different."  
"Is it? You are still taking away my will." Hermione stepped back, the space between them not seeming distant enough as she felt his breath fan out across her face.  
"You made a promise," she said, eyes silently pleading with his that he would somehow take the instruction back, or at least attempt to keep the promise from now on, but she kept her voice firm.  
"Then perhaps you should be more careful with who's word you trust."

His expression was as always impassive, just watching her. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. He had promised her many things that day, and now she couldn't rely on any.

After a moment of silence, Draco began to descend the stairs that moments before, she had planned to throw herself off. He didn't check she was following him, didn't even try to listen for her footsteps, just hoped that her curiosity would get the better of her and drag her to the gardens with him.

His wand was tucked in the corner of the hall, a distance away that indicated it must have fallen from his pocket or he had dropped it and now forgotten as he walked away. She could take it. Could kill him before he managed to order her otherwise. But then she would never leave, would be left with no hope of getting the collar off.

She pulled her eyes away from the wand and followed Draco down the stairs whether he had wanted her to or not.

Hermione hardly felt the cold. Even when it started to rain and her hair clung to her shoulders releasing small drops of waters down her back she didn't so much as shiver. She was still wearing her uniform and the cloak was proving hard not to trip over.

They had been walking for ten minutes, completely in silence, before Draco decided to speak.

"Granger." It was clear he was biting his cheek from the hollow look of one of the sides of his face.

Hermione craned her neck upwards, it was clear from his eyes he was having some sort of debate within his mind. He didn't look to check she was listening as though he partially hoped she wasn't.

"If I could have stopped you from doing what you did today, I want you to know I would've."

It was like a veil was draped over her conscious, blurring the world as she saw and heard it. She begged her mind to cooperate, if she could have plucked the words from the air and forced them into her head, she would've. 

"Spare me your sympathy, Draco."

He laughed, a small chuckle to himself. Not the kind that was earned by a joke but caused out of disbelief perhaps. 

Hermione blinked away the raindrops as she watched him, the water falling straight into her exposed eye at the angle.

His smile soon faded, just as quickly as it had come and after a few seconds she dropped her head back to watching her feet. They walked back to the manor in silence.

When they reached the threshold, she nearly slipped on the glossed floor, the wet of her boots providing scarce support. It had been so long since she had worn shoes, and the way she had learned to grip the floor with her toes went wasted inside a boot.

Already, a small puddle of rain water was forming beneath her, dripping off her clothes and rinsing from the bottom of her cloak. Draco didn't stop walking when he entered the manor behind her, and so, without thinking, she followed him up the stairs, eyeing the banister as she passed and practically retraced her steps back to her room.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside, not bothering to close it after them. Hermione walked in after, tugging off her boots before she could find a place to sit. The pair of heavy shoes fell to the floor, already creating a pool of water where they lay.

She unclipped the cloak and let it fall messily in front of her feet, landing on top of the shoes.

"You know, Granger, you are a natural occlumence."

Hermione averted her gaze to Draco. She had heard the word before, and understood enough what someone with the skill could do, but had never met anyone with it.

"When I entered your mind," he nearly stumbled on the words, "it was organised like a filing cabinet. Each memory assorted into a separate corner. Do the same with Neville. Push the memory away."

She wondered if being capable of legilimency meant occlumencey came easy but didn't bother asking.

"I deserve to feel it. I won't push it away." She turned away from Draco and began to unbutton her blouse.

"What you did...it wasn't your fault."  
"I know. It was yours."

Draco hardly reacted to her confrontation, if at all. Her hairs new length had advantages, it was already partially dry and the tips brushed her shoulders as she pulled the blouse over them and dropped it to the floor.

Hermione kept her gaze away from his as she headed towards her wardrobe and tugged the doors open. She pulled open the drawers below the row of hanging dresses and brought out a black vest top before tugging it over her head. She had become quite fond of the colour and decided that it was especially appropriate for such a day as this.

Hermione decided to leave her slacks on, even with their dampness. The light patter of rain against the window was the only sound to accompany the silence that hung in the room, not loud enough to disrupt it completely.

The quiet was almost louder than the rain outside itself.

The pair stared at each other, unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. And then Draco tensed his jaw and turned for the door.

"Stay." The words were out before Hermione could stop or consider them. 

Draco turned, looking down at his own uniform, drenched to such an extent that it stuck tightly to his skin. "Granger, I'm soaked."

"So am I."

He seemed to consider her for a moment and then unclipped his cloak so it fell onto the heap of her own discarded clothes at the foot of the bed. His fingers were fast unbuttoning his shirt, the thin black fabric parting to reveal the icy white underneath. All the time they held each others gaze. The blouse joined the pile on the floor.

Hermione walked to the furthest side of the bed, nearest the window. She was already tucked inside when he knelt one knee on the mattress. It dipped slightly and she watched him lift slowly move slightly closer. When he set himself down, she turned around, facing the opposite way, her eyes still wide open and focused on the window. She convinced herself it was the company she needed. That she just didn't want to be alone and it wouldn't matter who it was to accompany her.

The duvet stretched over her form as he lay on top of it and leant against the headboard, one arm behind his head. His back was half on the headboard and pillow, partially still sat up rather than lied down but in a way that looked comfortable.

Hermione's slacks were uncomfortable and irritating in the bleak darkness of her shut eyes. The absence of a scene gave her mind too much to think about. She sighed and turned around. Draco averted his gaze to her.

She held it for a while before her eyes dropped to his torso. Beads of water were caught in the contours and dips of his toned stomach, forming small pools between the raised areas, others trailed down his chest where they fell from the tips of his disheveled hair. His skin lit up in the reflecting light of the moon, glowing with the crystals of water dappled across him and turning him almost iridescent. Angelic in a way. Enticing. 

His trousers lay low, darkening the sheets where the water spread and sunk into the fabric around them. He hadn't bothered taking off his shoes, he clearly didn't plan to sleep.

The arm closest to her was pinned behind his head, his neck still craned down to look at her. Hermione was looking back at him now, watching as small drops of water clung to the tips of his lengthy eyelashes and threatened to spill over into his eyes.

The silence was comfortable, and Hermione appreciated the fact he didn't bother to make conversation, or feel the need to. 

Hermione began to trace the shapes of his scars with her sight, counting them and memorising each individually until her eyes fell willingly shut.


	22. Twenty two

When Hermione woke, her bed was empty. Not even a crease in the sheets was left where he lay, no trace that Draco had ever been there at all.

The previous day felt like a dream and as she thought back to it, Hermione struggled to determine what had really happened and what she could have just made up.

From the stiff feeling of her slacks against her legs as she swung them over the side of the bed, she knew they had walked through the gardens.

He had told her something, something important which she knew from the memory of his tone, unusually wary like telling her had been a decision that had taken a lot of thought to make.

The weight of the collar felt no less than the day before as she stood, practically weighed down by its presence. Though, her body still felt light, but in a way that was caused from the emptiness in her chest and the haze formed across her mind.

Considering her thoughts were slightly more accessible, Hermione presumed that soon her mind wouldn't feel as cold and that it just needed time to get used to the feeling of her will and own conscious being completely stripped away. But how could one ever get used to such a thing?

She had decided she would find a way, impossible or not she refused to be controlled. There must be a flaw in Voldemort's contraption, something small she could find and exploit.

She didn't have her wand which meant Draco hadn't ordered her against harming anyone other than herself, else she probably would have been left with it.

After yesterday, she wondered if he would completely disregard their arrangement altogether, or uphold it to an extent that only applied to his own opinions and what he wanted.

Would she still be trained? She was sure to go mad without his visits. Though Topsy had grown more comfortable with her and her nervous habits had nearly almost stopped, she was still unable to hold a conversation. Not to mention the fact with every conversation came a 'mud blood'. It was hard to attempt such civility when addressed in such a way. But Hermione knew it wasn't her fault.

Topsy appeared with a loud crack in the middle of the room, only slightly startling Hermione through the veil that still, though barely now, covered her mind.

"Topsy." Hermione tried to smile at the elf who seemed completely unfazed by the witches scarce clothing.

Hermione yearned to rip the uncomfortable slacks off, to feel nothing on her legs but the air around her but decided that could wait until Topsy left.

"The Mudblood must eat today."  
Hermione winced, no matter how many times she heard the words they still sounded so strange used in such casual conversation.

"I'm really not hungry, Topsy."  
The elf shuffled on her feet, something Hermione hadn't seen her do since her last training session.

"If the Mudblood does not eat today, master will punish Topsy," she said, turning her gaze to the floor.

Hermione could only assume the master she was referring to was Draco, considering he seemed to have most control over Hermione's situation.

Hermione sighed, walking towards Topsy and taking the plate from her trembling hands.

"Thankyou, Topsy, you can go now."

The elf apparated from the room before the last word left Hermione's lips and in a way, she was thankful for the Topsy's unsocial habits. She didn't want to speak to anyone.

Hermione set the plate down on the floor but brought the sandwich with her to the bathroom. She picked at the bread piece by piece as she stood over the toilet.

She made sure each life was small enough to flush before dropping it into the bowel and watching it float across the water, changing direction when she dropped another.

When half of the sandwich was in the bowel of the toilet, she flushed. A wave of relief flowed through her when the water didn't rise and the food was gone.

When the other half was ridden of, she practically tore off her slacks and underwear, and stepped into the shower.

Hermione spent the day sat at the windowsill, watching the sun slowly descend and then vanish entirely behind the hills beyond the manor grounds.

Draco had payed his visit to the bench and she had watched. He must've picked up the habit quite recently, she was sure he wouldn't attempt such antics at Hogwarts, though the fact Hermione still didn't know how the Death Eaters got into the school, the certainty began to falter.

She had drew, mainly the same tree that was only just visible from her window. Though she couldn't see the gates, she knew the tree was beyond them. Free. Something that she now admired. Something stripped away from her.

Whenever Hermione drew the manor grounds, she included the gates. She wasn't sure how far they stretched across but she drew them the whole length of the piece of parchment anyway.

Sometimes her gaze would slip to faces. Draco's. Perhaps her pencil did the same but she drew the day away until it had gotten too dark to make out the shadows from light. Only then did she stop.

She always left her drawings on the windowsill, ordered in a pile faced downwards so that only she would know what consisted on the hidden side.

When Draco finally arrived in her room later that night, he eyed the untouched plate by the bed before he even looked at her.

She hadn't told Topsy that she wouldn't eat it, knowing the response she earned would be similar to what the elf had said at lunch. She couldn't bare to be the cause of her pain, but it wasn't like she could tip a whole meal down the toilet and if she tried to eat it, it would no doubt come back up.

Finally, after a few minutes of painful silence, he turned to her.

"Eventually, you'll have to eat."  
"I know," she shrugged. "But don't hurt Topsy for my own actions."  
Draco frowned,adjusting his hands that were hidden away beneath his pockets and behind the bottom of his black suit. It was strange that he wore it considering she could only assume he was here to train and it was definitely not worn for comfort.

"Why would you say that?"  
Hermione hesitated. Was he feigning cluelessness?  
"Topsy said..." Hermione was reflecting his frown now. "I ate at lunch today because she said if I didn't she would be punished."  
His frown deepened and the crease between his eyebrows became ever more prominent.  
"Topsy raised me. I would never lay a finger on her," he said, and then his jaw tensed as he realised that someone else must have or at least threatened it.

He walked forward, clearly ending the conversation and Hermione didn't try to restart it.

"I wasn't sure if we would keep training," Hermione said as he reached her in the middle of the room.  
When Draco pulled out his hand that was tucked into his pocket, a piece of metal caught the dim light. Three pieces of metal. 

He handed her them and then retrieved three of his own from his other pocket. The realisation that she had only been trusted with them because she had been ordered not to harm herself encouraged the constant rage in her chest to simmer slightly. It was a reminder of just how much control she had over her life. Rather, how much control she didn't have. 

Hermione wrapped her hand around the hilts, running a light finger down the blade and wondering where exactly she could stab Draco so he would die the quickest.

Of course she would never follow out such an act, especially considering he had trusted her with them enough as to not order her for his safety. Or perhaps he just didn't think she would be quick enough to stab him. He did hold himself quite high. And mentioned many times that she was in fact no threat at all to anyone let alone him.

"The Order have muggles on their side, extremely well trained ones at that," he said, admiring his own knives.

Hermione frowned. It was unlike the Order to involve muggles especially in a situation that would put them in danger for the benefit of the wizard img world.

"Kingsley had warned us of course, but we hadn't been expecting so many."  
"What has this got to do with knives?"  
"They all carried them. Each one skilled enough that there would be a blade sticking in your chest before you even knew they were there."  
"A wand would be just as effective."  
"Not when they can have you pinned on the floor before you even think up a spell."  
"I'm offended," she said, bringing a hand to her chest.  
"Don't be. One of them nearly sliced my fingers clean off aiming for my wand."

Draco crouched downwards and slid a blade carefully into his shoe. "Find your boots," he said, eyeing her bare feet. Truth was, Hermione had become fairly accustomed to not owning any shoes and tried to avoid it now at all costs, but she did as he said anyway and slid them out from beneath her bed.

"Put one of the daggers inside," Draco said as she pulled on the last boot. Hermione retrieved one of the knives from the floor beside her and stuck it in her shoe.

Draco sighed. "The blade facing downwards. How do you plan on taking up a knife by the blade?"

She supposed he was right, though his mockery wasn't appreciated.

She pinched the end of the blade and turned it around so the hilt stuck out the top of her boot. As she rose to her feet, Draco took a step back, knives clutched almost loosely in his hands, he clearly wasn't worried.

"Go," he said simply.  
"Go?"  
"Go."

Hermione lunged towards him. Knife stretched out In front of her but she was too slow and Draco had already stepped casually to the side. She groaned, twisting around to face him before trying for him again.

This time, he didn't move, just snatched up her wrist, spun her round and yanked her into him.

Her back was against his chest, and only after she swallowed did she feel the knife at her throat. Two knives at her throat.

He had his hand still gripped onto her wrist which was now just in front of her shoulders. He has used her own arm to hold her knife to her neck, not to mention his own blade that just knocked the skin on her neck above where the other blade lay. 

"The attacker will just use your momentum against you, Granger." He released her and she stumbled backwards, shooting him a glare.

Without waiting for permission this time, she lunged again, changing paths at the last second in hopes to trick him.

Draco swept a leg across her ankles and followed her body down to the floor. Hermione yelped.

Draco was on top of her, grinning. She pressed her lips into a thin line, attempting to ignore the dull ache that had formed at the back of her head.

A brief flicker of confusion came over Draco's features as she mimicked his grin, and then she drove her knee upwards, jabbing it into the space between his legs.

He grunted and crumbled, collapsing on top of her. She only just managed to escape his weight and roll out from under his body.

"That's not fair," he groaned, pressing his hands to the floor and slowly forcing himself back up to his feet.

"You never said I had to play fair."

Draco's eyebrow jerked upwards and he seemed to stifle a smile of some sort.

"Again," he said and instead of lunging, she threw the knife towards his leg. The metal hummed through the air and for a moment, she thought she had bested him. He didn't react straight away, just watched slightly wide eyed as the blade spun towards him.

Finally, he moved and the blade sliced the fabric of his trousers. It seemed to have caught flesh and it clattered to the floor, a sheen of crimson laced across the edge.

She snatched her eyes back up to him. His eyebrows were raised. Hermione felt the urge to apologise, something she didn't plan to give into but the feeling was there nonetheless. She blamed the collar. She decided she would blame it more often, excuse or not, no one could prove her wrong, though she was sure Draco would find a way.

This time, he went for her and she only missed the blade by an inch. Hermione scoffed.

"So...you're going make me kill muggles now?" the witch asked, attempting to nick his outstretched arm with her blade.  
"Granger," he warned, a muscle dipping near his jaw.  
"I don't understand why the Order would bring them into this." It had never been done before and even though it was bound to happen at some point, Hermione thought it was strange that it was the Order who was the first to do it.

Had they been imperio'd? Surely not.

"Did you forget that their leader is a traitor?"   
Hermione didn't like how he spoke of them as separate to her. He swung for her arm, slicing through the thin fabric of her blouse and breaching her skin. Her blood poured from the wound, dyeing her sleeve red, but he grinned. That only told her it was a minor wound.

She huffed out a breath. "Why would Kingsley come up with such an idea if he's on your side?"  
Draco frowned. "Perhaps to make the Order look bad." After all it was a crime. Hermione slashed her knife forward but he dodged easily and did so with a grin plastered on his face.

"Why would you trust a traitor? I suppose he is to join the Death Eaters at some point?" she asked, watching him eagerly for his next attack.

Draco laughed. "Oh, we don't plan on him joining us. We're going to kill him eventually...when he's no longer useful." 

Even with the knowledge of his treason, something struck inside her. She had treated Kingsley as a friend, an alley. And he was going to be killed. She tried to persuade herself he deserved it. But did anyone really deserve death?

She tensed her jaw and swung for him again. He caught her arm but she used it to her advantage, spinning around him and wrapping the trapped arm around his neck. "That's barbaric."

He twisted out of her hold and kicked the back of her legs below her knee. Before she could fall a heap on the floor, he spun, catching her shoulders and hoisting her to her feet. A knife appeared at her throat. "That's life."

His breath brushed her ear, the words a low rumble in his chest which passed through to his.

Hermione frowned. That wasn't life. Life wasn't meant to be murdered or kidnapped. Taken from someone. Though she assumed he meant more that Kingsley deserved it, and so she decided she was okay with that.

Before she could reply, he had swept her clean off her feet. Dazed, she stared up at him, a deep frown filling the hollow features of her face.

"Do you plan on teaching me anything? Or did you just come here to watch me fall?"

Draco offered a hand. "I will teach you. Though I admit the falling is a benefit."

She sighed, placing her hand in his and nearly stumbling into his chest as he hauled her up with a bit too much force.

They trained continuously for around three hours and by the end, it was hard to distinguish the deep stains of stains of sweat from the blood on their black trousers.

Now they sat next to each other, backs against the foot of the bed and legs spread out in front of them, panting and sticky with sweat.

"I'll get a healer in tomorrow to see to your wounds," Draco said turning over his knives in his hands.  
Hermione scoffed, "do you plan to do that everytime we train?"  
"I wouldn't want you getting blood everywhere."  
"The cuts are nothing time won't heal. Yours though," she turned to face him, "perhaps you should call a healer for yourself."  
"I admire your confidence, Granger."

He met her gaze. His hair was slick with sweat, completely disheveled and his blouse clung to his sticky torso. Only the dark colour stopped it from turning translucent. It was shame he always wore black.

Hers, on the other hand, was almost completely sheer and she folded her arms over her chest. Draco noticed the notion.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger." He averted his gaze forward again. "Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Hermione's eyes went so wide that she was sure they took up half of her face. She was glad he had turned away asa wave of heat crept up her face.

Still, she dropped her arms to her side and saw him smirk slightly. 

"When's the next time I'll be leaving the Manor?" she asked.  
"A few days."

So soon? She hadn't expected there to be so many fights. It was nothing like the Order had predicted: that there would one major battle and all would be done no matter the outcome. Instead, there were multiple attacks, isolated to focus on one certain thing like a prisoner rescue she had taken part in working against.

From what she could tell, things weren't going well for them. But what could she expect with a traitor leading them into battles with false promises of victories and hope when they were doomed before they even arrived.

Hermione nodded, hoping he somehow saw her from the corner of his eye.  
"Where is it?"  
"Surrey. There's a lab there where they make the collars." There were more? "We know they have a spy with us, but haven't managed to figure out who yet."

"I'm not the only one who has to wear this?" She brought a hand to the metal clung to her neck.  
"No. All the prisoners will wear one soon. When they have all been manufactured."

Hermione shuddered. They would be just like her. Stuck within the shell of a person they used to be, trapped within their own mind. Would other Death Eaters be as generous as Draco had been? She doubted it.

"It's disgusting."  
Draco didn't reply.  
"Will you hide me away in a building again?"  
Draco bit his cheek. "I can't. No one can enter the building. It's high security and will remained locked."

Hermione's stomach turned. "So I'll fight on the field?"  
Draco nodded. "With me."

She wasn't sure why, but for some strange reason, his words brought her some type of comfort.  
"Okay."

When Draco left, Hermione headed straight for the shower. Her blouse fell to the floor a heap of tinged white and stains of red, practically torn to shreds at the blade of Draco's knife. He was skilled she would admit but what wasn't he good at? She wondered how much clothes she would ruin over the time he had planned to teach her for.

Hermione was so eager to shower that she had forgotten to completely undress and had stepped into the shower in her underwear.

The water stung as she stepped under it. Hermione hissed through her teeth as it found its way into each wound. There weren't many, but enough to flinch when the water found a new one. She wondered if the next morning she would be woken by a healer at her bedroom door.


	23. Twenty three

Hermione hadn't been woken that morning. Not by Topsy or a healer. Part of her was surprised that Draco had listened and not sent someone to check her injuries.

She had spent half the day perched on the window sill, paper in her lap, pencil in hand, and she had watched Draco on his now daily trip to the gardens.

He sat in his usual spot; the black metal bench hidden behind the tall bushes but not quite hidden enough that she couldn't see him bring his hands to his face and shield his mouth from the wind as it glowed orange behind them.

He lingered there for longer than usual. Though he never looked relaxed. His body was obviously tense, each joint bent sharply at a jagged angle. His legs spread slightly apart and his elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward.

His eyes hardly wandered, didn't take in the scenery like hers did from her window on a usual day — one where she wasn't solely focussed on him.

Hermione had found that over the few days it had been him and his daily visits that gave her the slightest bit of excitement. She noticed it more now that her life seemed more distant and head, numb. Presumably, it was the collar, unless Nevilles death had taken an even more severe toll on her mind than she thought.

Either way, she found herself waiting for him. Staring down at her gifted clock until he would appear from inside the building and stroll down the gravel path with a posture that often shocked her because he upheld it even in privacy, where no one else was watching. Except for Hermione of course. But he didn't know that. That was, until, his eyes began to drift upwards.

The first time, she learnt slightly backwards, not being completely aware how much she had leant absently towards him anyway, and snatch her gaze to her lap. But after the first few times, she let her eyes linger, catch his and stay. He didn't break the eye contact and neither did she.

Sometimes, he would even watch her through the smoke spiralling from his mouth and even through a sort of veil, his stare was intense.

The first three training sessions, in Hermione's opinion, hadn't been much help. Where with the spell training, he had helped her, now he just her fail. She was certain he enjoyed watching her fall. Continuously at that. Hermione didn't miss the slight tug of his lips every time she found herself on her knees, and in front of him at that. 

He always helped her up, but in a few seconds she was on the floor again. He just allowed her to do what she pleased, not giving help, just stepping out of the path of her blades and sometimes wrapping his arms around her to trap her between him and his own knife.

She wondered if this time would be different considering she was to leave the Manor tomorrow. After all, she wasn't going to learn if he hardly spoke during the sessions.

Hermione stepped into the shower, adjusting the temperature accordingly as she tested it with her toe. When she was happy, she let herself be fully submerged in the water, running her hands over her hair as her eyes fell shut and eyes tilted back.

Hermione's hair reached the middle of her chest now. She wouldn't cut it again. Truth was, she missed her waist length locks. How they curled perfectly for its length. Now, the curls were tighter and rushed as they ran out of space.

It would grow back.

She was to fight tomorrow, and considering Draco had spent their lessons mocking her, she wasn't even remotely ready. Albeit, she didn't exactly want to be.

The Order had pulled something she would have never imagined. Bringing muggles into wizard problems was something never heard of before. Had Harry agreed to it? Surely he wouldn't have.

At the last Order meeting, it had been clear that no one would kill. That they would stun the Death Eaters and nothing more. 

Bringing muggles into this and with knives? It didn't exactly support their previous point.

Maybe their minds had changed. Or maybe Draco was right and Kingsley had brought them in to turn the world against the resistance. Perhaps to make the Order seemed just as bad as Voldemort.

How was she going to fight again? She was on the field now, exposed to everyone. Possibly feet away from Harry, Ron but yet so distant at the same time. There was no way they could know who she was, not unless she spoke or removed her mask.

Hermione turned the shower off, sighing at the absence of warmth before pushing open the glass door and feeling the cool air meet her skin.

Hermione shivered, reaching for the towel that was slung over the sink. Her eyes didn't drift, didn't so much as peep at the mirror above. Even in the lack of light, she wouldn't look.

She had never turned on the bathroom light, allowed the sun from the window in her room to light it up. And, in this case, when it was pitch black outside, the dim lamp supplied enough light to reach the bathroom.

Hermione wrapped the towel around herself, tucking it in under her arms and leaving the misty bathroom. The untouched meal was on her dresser, beside it was her clock. She would check that later.

Hermione walked to her dresser, but before she could tug open its doors, hers opened.

Draco didn't noticed her until he had shut the door and turned around. He already had his knives out when he saw her.

"Granger," he greeted casually, grinning as his eyes freely ventured across her bare skin. His gaze lingered near the top of the towel, and where it ended at her legs.

Hermione felt the heat creep into her face as he stared.

"Turn around," she rushed out, quickly wrapping her arms around her chest to secure the towel even further.

Draco's eyes still didn't meet hers. "You never minded before."

"I need to change," she said pulling open the wardrobe drawers and hoping he understood. She reached for the drawers again, scanning them briefly before tugging out a black top and tight training shorts that she hadn't noticed before.

When she closed the doors and turned, Draco was still watching. "Turn around."

This time he did, quite reluctantly it seemed.

Hermione allowed the towel to drop to the floor and caught Draco shift slightly on his feet. She began to change.

"I gave you a clock for a reason," he said as she pulled on the black top and lifted her hair free from where it was trapped under its fabric.

"I forgot you were coming." She hadn't, but it seemed easier to say instead of the fact she simply lost track of time.

He scoffed. "Considering I'm the only person you see, Granger, I highly doubt that."

Hermione was turning the shorts over in her hands, trying to figure out which way was the back. Unable to think up a reply, she stayed silent until she managed to put the shorts on, still unsure of the sides.

"You can turn around."

As he did, he frowned.

"Are you sure you're done?" he asked, an eyebrow now high on his forehead as he studied her.

She would admit the clothes provided scarce coverage, but she was more concerned on their flexibility and the fact they weren't one bit restrictive.

"Give me my knives."

He reached into his pocket bringing out three dazzling blades, each handed to her so that she would have to take it by the blade.

"Do I fight tomorrow?" It had been three days since he had told her she was to go to Surrey, and if he was precise with his times, a few days would mean then.

"Yes," he said, taking out three leather looking straps from behind his cloak. Well his new cloak.

Draco stepped towards her, tucking two of the holsters under his arm and then holding the other out towards her.

"Protecting the lab?" she asked, bending her arm where he lifted it with delicate fingers. Draco nodded, wrapping the leather around her fore arm and securing it tightly in place.

Hermione flexed her fingers as he released her, studying the leather clinging to her.

Draco took both of the other holsters from under his arm and brought one to his mouth to hold between his teeth.

Before she could frown, he was on one knee in front of her and wrapping another holster around her lower calf, the last one still between his teeth.

"I could have held it for you," she said, observing him as he secured it in place. It looked as though he was doing the simple task of tying a shoe.

Draco looked up, taking the last holster from his mouth. It had faint teeth marks imprinted on it. His hands hovered over the top of her leg.

"May I?"  
Hermione only nodded.

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards as he adverted his gaze back to her bare thigh. Perhaps he had expected her to be difficult. The leather was cold on her skin but his touch was not. His knuckles skimmed her leg, so easy to avoid that it had to have been on purpose. 

It seemed to take longer than when he secured the last. Slowly stretching the leather around the size of her thigh, adjusting, and then securing it in place.

Hermione sucked in a bit of air through her teeth. He had caught her skin in the latch.

"You caught my skin."  
"Mm," he hummed, taking the leather back through the latch and releasing it. But when he ran a thumb along the red nick of skin, and when he slowly rubbed a circle over it, she wasn't so sure it had been an accident.

Finally, he stood and as if she had done it multiple times before, she began to sheath each knife in the holsters located across her body.

"Considering I have to fight tomorrow, you should probably teach me something," she said when stepped back. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think I've being doing?" he asked, twisting a knife effortlessly in his hands, the hilt weaving between his fingers and she tried to keep her focus on his eyes. 

"I've hardly learnt anything."  
"Maybe you're just a slow learner." Draco stopped the knife in his hand. "Or maybe i just like watching you fall."

Hermione scoffed. "Who taught you to fight with knives anyway?"  
"I did."  
"You did?"  
He nodded.

He was quite advanced to have taught himself.  
"Just teach me, Draco."

Draco shifted on his feet and glanced at his knives, dropping his hands to his sides and then looking back to her.

"Try to stab me."

She didn't have to think twice, Hermione lunged forward, and instead of following one path with her blade, she swung it viscously through the air in any direction, hoping to cover as much area as she could. He had given her permission, so if she was to stab him, she couldn't be blamed.

Even in her frantic attempt, he steeped easily away from her, sliding past before she could react or even notice. She spun and tried again.

Only this time, he matched her approach and stepped into the attack. The knives didn't find flesh but his hands did. He gripped her arms and brought their joined ones over head so they barricaded her chest. She was pinned against his chest and the vibration of his chuckle shook her as she panted.

"You breathe in before you strike."  
Hermione frowned, still wriggling in his hold. "What?"  
"Your breath catches. That's your tell."  
"My tell?"  
"Everyone has one. You just have to look hard enough to find it."

She decided she would have to stop breathing when she struck next.

"And yours is?"  
"You'll have to find out for yourself, Granger."

Draco didn't release her, didn't show any sign that he would soon and with her arms restricted to her chest and wrists pinned, she did the only thing she could think of.

Hermione squirmed slightly, pushing further into Draco and arching her back slightly. She felt him stiffen against her and a jagged breath skimmed her cheek.

When his grip slackened for the briefest moment, she snapped her arms outwards and spun out of his grip. She couldn't hide the grin on her face.

Draco's jaw rippled under the skin.  
"Again," he said.  
Hermione's eyes widened more than she thought possible and heat crept into her cheeks.  
"Again?" She choked out, half a laugh.  
"Try and stab me again."  
Suddenly, she felt quite ridiculous.  
"And watch me this time."

Hermione nodded, eyes locking onto his face and she swung, not in attempt to hit him, but enough to startle him into action. He swung back but as she searched him, she found no sign of a tell.

She leapt forward again, eyes fixed on his chest but it remained rhythmic and even.

With a frown on her face, she brought her gaze back to his and when she struck her knife forward, she finally saw it. Draco's jaw tensed a mere second before he struck back, but as she studied it, her mind was quickly pulled away when she his blade tear through the flesh of her arm.

Hermione yelped, jumping backwards as she clutched it. It wasn't deep enough l be any real concern, but deep enough that her shirt had already grown completely wet as she held the arm protectively against her chest.

"What is it, Granger?"  
"You cut me."  
"No, what's my tell. I know you saw it."

He sounded almost eager.  
"Your jaw," she said tearing her gaze away from her bleeding arm to look at it, "it locks."

Something in his eyes told her he had never been known before.

"We should probably end here. You need to rest."   
Draco brought her arm towards him and with the other hand, retrieved his wand from the depths of his pocket. She didn't resist, it was clear enough he planned to heal her when he let the tip hover just over the wound. Quick enough, the cut was gone, and you wouldn't have known it was there if it wasn't for the blood tinting her skin a dark pink. He tucked his wand back inside his pocket along with his knives and then held his hand out in front of her, palm upwards. 

She unsheathed the dagger from her arms and unbuckled the holster, about to hand both over to him when she realised he was his knee again, fumbling with the holster at her thigh.

She hadn't even felt him there and knew now that before, when his skin touched hers, it had definitely been on purpose.

He did the same with the holster and knife at her ankle and then they all disappeared in his pocket as he rose.

She wondered just how deep that pocket was.

Before Draco could leave, she began towards the window and he stilled, watching her. It was completely dark outside but considering it hadn't reached eleven yet, the outside lights still shone over the grounds.

She didn't need to to turn around to know he was watching her. His state was basically a touch considering how intense it usually was.

"I can't kill anyone else, Draco."  
She heard him approach.  
"If you don't fight them, they'll kill you, Granger."  
"Then I will reveal my face."  
"Then the Death Eaters will kill you."  
"Maybe that's not such a bad thing."  
A heartbeat of silence passed.

"Don't say that," Draco said firmly, and she wondered if now that he had ordered her, she couldn't even if she wanted to. She really had no idea how the collar worked and to what extent. She had to restrict herself from repeating her words.

"Is that a command?" Hermione turned to where he stood about a foot behind her.  
"Granger," he warned, jaw dipping.  
"It is though, isn't it?" She laughed. "I bet I couldn't say it even if I tried."  
"I didn't want this to happen. I just do what he says."  
"Coward," she mumbled under her breath but it was clear that he heard it when his breathing quickly became louder and more rushed.

"Draco," she said after a moment of silence, turning her whole body to face him now, "just take it off."

He blinked several times, slowly, and then dropped his gaze. "I can't, Granger."  
"Why?"  
"I just can't."

Hermione brought a hand to the metal wrapped around her neck and ran an absent finger along its rim. He was the only one who could take it off, and yet here he was denying her. Would he deny her forever? Was she destined to die with only have living a life that wasn't really her own.

Would it ever be her own again?

"Please." The words were a tremble, a whisper on her lips as she tried to dig the tips of fingers under the metal.

"Granger." Draco's voice was low and more quiet than usual, but still unmistakably firm.  
"Why can't you?"  
"Just leave it."  
"Draco."  
"Stop." Hermione decided then that was exactly what she would do. He was looking at her now, and she wasn't sure if it was the feigned menace, warning, forced upon his features, or the plea beneath that made her stop talking.

She hardly slept that night, dread mottling her insides, heart continuously thumping, but in a way, the collar made it somewhat bearable. Pushing away the images that had come for her so many times, haunted her dreams and even troubled her mind during the day.

Now, they were distant. Still there but also too far away to completely rattle her already troubled mind. It was as though the veil over her conscious formed a barrier, and for that she was grateful.

She was able to sleep, not peacefully, but well enough that when she was abruptly woken by an unfamiliar man, her body wasn't sluggish.

She snapped her eyes open and pushed herself to the other side of the bed and away from him. No, her.

"Pansy?" The words came out a croak in her rested voice.  
"Hi," she said softly, stepping backwards. "The attack has started earlier than we thought, Draco has already gone. We have to leave now."

She could hardly speak. She was the third person Hermione had spoken to in nearly two years, and it was Pansy. Pansy Parkinson.

"Are you okay?" she asked, frowning at Hermione's startled state. All Hermione could do was nod.

"Where is your uniform?"  
Hermione pointed to the wardrobe and when Pansy left the bed side, she scooted over and sat on the edge.

The hangers rattled as Pansy quickly spread apart the lavish dresses and then yanked anything black out.

"They expect you to wear those things?" Pansy asked, not bothering to close the doors as she strolled over to Hermione.

Immediately understanding she meant the dresses, Hermione shrugged. "I don't, but I'm sure they put them there to spite me."

Pansy frowned.

"Well I live in such luxury here, it's like I'm not even a prisoner," she continued. Pansy took the shirt from the hanger and Hermione pulled her own over her head.

"I feel like I'm almost betraying them. The Order."  
Pansy wrapped the blouse around her and Hermione pushed her arms through the sleeves.

"I reckon you're living better than them. Well, I know you are," she said, leaving Hermione to fiddle with the buttons as she urged her to step into the slacks she held below her knees. 

"I didn't see you last time," Hermione said, tugging the slacks up her legs and quickly buttoning them.  
"I didn't see you either." 

She had a fair point, especially considering that Hermione had been hidden away in a basement.  
Pansy fitted the cloak around Hermione's shoulders.  
"Couldn't they get a cloak that fit you?"

Hermione decided it was best best not to mention that it had been Draco's cloak she was securing around her neck, and that she had chosen it.

Hermione took the mask from the bed but didn't put it on.

"They might already be there. You should put the mask on now," Pansy said as she lifted a chain from her pocket. It had a pendent on it, and she held the necklace from the chain. Hermione placed the mask over her face.

"You'll have to fight with me, I doubt we'll be able to find Draco." Without warning, Pansy linked her hands with Hermione's and squeezed before flipping the necklace upwards and catching it in her free hand, closing her palm over it.

The minute her skin touched the pendant, the world began to swirl and melt around them. But Pansy stayed close, squeezing Hermione's hand whenever Hermione found her eyes drift shut.


	24. Twenty Four

Tw: injury/knives/blood

Hermione slept better than night. Possibly from fatigue. She knew it wasn't the everlasting knot of dread that had taken permanent residence in her stomach, but she also hadn't realised just how exhausted she had been.

The bed began to shake. No, she began to shake and it took her a few reluctant seconds to finally open her eyes. Draco was kneeled beside the bed, expression stern.

"We have to go," he said, rising quickly to his feet and chucking a pile of black fabric onto her lap.

She gazed out the window to where the sun was only just rising. It was shame that the first decent sleep she had gotten had been cut so short, and the knot in her stomach tightened when she realised why.

"Hurry up, Granger," Draco said, obviously irritated. He was already turned around.

Hermione quickly stripped, attempting to hide under the bed covers even though he was turned around. She soon gave up on that plan and rose from her bed, changing there, a few feet away from Draco's back.

"Are we leaving now?" she asked, doing up the final buttons of her blouse at her waist. Draco didn't wait for approval when he turned around, taking her—his cloak and draping it over her shoulders.

"We should have left half an hour ago."

Hermione only frowned back at him as he fumbled with the clasp on her cloak. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, and so Hermione took the fabric from his fingers, resisting the urge to stiffen at the contact of his skin, and secured the cloak. Draco was already sliding the mask over her face along with his own, and before she could even take another breath, he grabbed her hand.

Draco slid his lengthy fingers between Hermione's, completely swallowing her hand under his. His finger tips pressed into the back of her hand and it would've been painful had she not already felt the tug of the portkey as Draco clasped a pendent tight into his free hand.

It was quicker this time. The world fell apart in shards instead of slowly melting away into a murky smudge of colour. Part of her was grateful for speeding up the stomach-turning transition, but the other part of her wanted nothing more than to prolong the effects of the portkey. She would rather endure it than go through the torture that awaited her.

As soon as their feet hit the dappled grass, he let go of her hand, filling the absence of his palm against hers with the wand Hermione had grown so much to hate.

"Protect yourself," was all he said, and then the field exploded into chaos.

The air around Hermione began to spark and it wasn't until she felt the heat in front of her face that she realised a spell was feet away from hitting her.

Protect yourself.

Her arm flew up, wand clutched so tightly in her hand it turned her knuckles sallow and fingers, numb. She deflected the spell easily, like she hardly had to try.

Draco stood at her side, gaze catching hers for a split second before both their attention was dragged back to the spell racing towards them. Only then did Hermione see the group of people standing beyond the row of Death Eaters.

They didn't wear a uniform, some wore muggle clothes, and they were falling. Dropping like flies as the people in black casted countless spells at them. All the sinister colour of green.

The spells had begun to ease in frequency but Hermione's wrist still ached profusely as she flicked it in the way Draco had taught her. Beside her, Draco moved with such grace and speed that if you blinked she was sure you would miss him.

It wasn't often that he had to move, considering the caster was usually dead before the spell could even leave their wand. She watched as he effortlessly cast a row of spells and a crowd of around five dropped.

She had never seen him kill before.

He didn't seem to react to his actions, or the way their bodies fell and crumpled to the floor in a heap. It wasn't the killing curse he used, the bodies bled until their veins were no doubt dry.

Was he really that cruel? There should always be dignity in death. And yet he let them all bleed out. Slowly.

Just under his mask she could see the hard set of his jaw. Hermione watched him, his wrist cutting sharp lines into the air that was now heavily scented with iron. Again, the Order were madly outnumbered, there had to be at least ten Death Eaters for every four of them.

More of the Order fell around her, a boy around her age was what snagged her attention. She knew him.

Could she heal any of the fallen? She hadn't been told not to.

With a quick glance at Draco, she left his side, sprinting towards the fallen boy. His head turned in her direction as she approached. There was a trickle of crimson seeping from the corner of his mouth.

The boys eyes widened as she dropped to his side.

"Please," he choked out, "stop."  
It took all of Hermione's strength to will her mouth to move behind the mask. "Don't be afraid," she whispered, and he frowned, "I want to help."

Hermione didn't wait for permission or a response, she frantically assessed the dying boy. He had been cut. Many times, and he would be dead in less than a few minutes.

"Who are you?"

Not expecting the question, Hermione paused and brought her gaze back to his. There was a brief silence as they just stared at one another.

"Hermione Granger."  
The boy frowned further, eyes wide. Hermione wasn't sure whether he believed her, but he would live and she would be the one to save him.

A sharp jab of pain spread across her left side as she was forced roughly to the floor. Someone was straddling her, one hand pinning both her wrists above her head as she struggled in their grip.

It was a man dressed in muggle clothes. He held a knife in each hand and a viscous smile distorted his face into one of a maniac. In the hand holding hers down, his knife began to slide against her wrist, beads of blood formed in its path.

Draco was right. She couldn't use her wand but she didn't have her knives. The crazed mans smile seemed to widen the more she struggled, his knives pressing harder into her wrists as he contained them.

What sorts of people had the Order enlisted?

"Let me go," Hermione said through her teeth, but the mans smile only grew more, which she didn't think was possible.

She felt the knife push deeper into her wrist, drawing more blood which now dribbled down the side of her arm.

If she was fast enough she could take the knife from his grip. He was clearly more focussed on containing her. She just needed to disarm him. He was going to kill her, anything was worth trying.

Before she could move, the man above her shuddered, smile gone so quickly that it was hard to imagine it was ever there, though she was sure it would haunt her sleep, and his eyes were wide.

Then he fell, collapsing on top of her, hands releasing hers and knives basically falling into her palm.

Hermione stopped breathing. His lifeless body lay on top of hers, head in the crook of her neck, one leg between hers. His weight felt doubled in his limp state, restricting her breathing. She couldn't move.

A Death Eater came to stand beside her, filling her gaze as they stared down at her. The hair peaking out in wisps under the mask she would recognise anywhere.

Draco grabbed the fabric of the dead mans shirt and yanked him off her. His body fell heavily to the floor, and she wondered if she should feel any guilt. She didn't.

Draco held out a hand, but even though she could breathe now, she couldn't move. After a few moments, Draco bent down and scooped her up into his arms. The gesture was short lived though, as soon as he was at his full height again, he placed her down feet first on the ground.

The world around them was still busy with spells and shouts.

"I had it handled," Hermione said quietly, "you didn't have to kill him."  
"You and me both know I did."

He was right, and she was beyond glad Draco had killed him.

"That man," she started, "he was—"  
"Insane?"  
Hermione nodded.  
"They all are. No one knows where Kingsley picked them up."

As much as she tried to keep her eyes off of the dead mans body, they always found a way back. His head was face down in the grass and for that she was glad.

"You shouldn't have left my side, Granger."  
"I know, but I saw..." Hermione dragged her eyes away from the corpse to the place she had been minutes before. The boys eyes were still open but she could tell he wasn't seeing anything. If she had just been quicker...

Hermione began to walk towards the boy she knew.

"Granger," Draco said from behind her, but the witch continued forward.

She crouched next to him. His face was relaxed and at ease, all trace of the shock and disbelief that had overcome his features moments before replaced with a scene of tranquility. Slowly, Hermione brought her palm to his face, dragging two fingers over his eyelids until they completely shut. If it weren't for the blood soaked shirt, he would've looked as though he was simply sleeping.

"Granger!"

Hermione snatched her focus towards Draco, but his gaze was fixed somewhere else. She followed his line of sight and soon understood his tone. Dancing out of the spells path, she hardly missed it. The wand it had come from wasn't aimed at her though.

Ig had slipped past a Death Eater in what looked to be a heated duel with a member of the Order. Each were skilled, deflecting with a simple flick of the wrist in a similar fashion to Draco.

It was obvious the member was growing tired, their movements became sloppier but didn't slow down. It would cost them their life if they were to risk even a seconds break.

Hermione wanted to intervene. She could help. But if the Order member was to start casting spells at her, Hermione would have no other option than to protect herself.

Protect yourself.

Something clicked in Hermione's brain and even in her aching legs protest she sprinted forward, racing through people who's shouts drowned out Draco's calling.

Weaving through spells, Hermione was getting closer to the pair. Their gazes were stuck on one another's, so focussed that Hermione doubted anything would drag them out of their trance until only one remained.

Their spells clashed where they met in the middle, and their constant casting lit up the dim sky like fireworks, each spell a different sour colour.

When Hermione reached the back of the Death Eater , the Order member didn't even look, whether they chose to ignore her she wasn't sure, but as Hermione saw the Death Eater being back their wand and begin to strike it through the air, she leaked infront.

The spells from behind her stopped coming as she stood between the pair, but the wand infront of her was already slashing through the air and a shout she recognised as the killing curse left the Death Eaters mouth.

There was only a brief look of shock across their face. They wouldn't know it was her.

Protect yourself.

Hermione snatched her wand to her chest and the green spell vanished against it. She hardly needed to think when she cast a spell back. It struck the Death Eater straight across the chest and they stumbled back.

Then a scream so morbid tore from their lungs as they fell to their knees. They clawed at their skin, desperately trying to itch something bellow the surface. Hermione hadn't been sure what spell she casted, but when the wizard sunk completely to the floor, she had to will her legs to intently to move.

Another Death Eater had turned on her, gaze lingering for a few moments on the corpse until they slashed their wand harshly through the air and a spark of purple came dancing towards her.

Protect yourself.

The witch leapt out of its path and fired quickly back. She was too fast. The death Eater gasped and then clutched his chest, before falling to his hands and knees.

She really was trained by the best.

It wasn't long until her rebellion had brought attention. Hardly any Order members remained now, and so the spare Death Eaters turned their attention to her. She wondered if they knew who she was, and if they did, would they still kill her even though she was important.

A group of five formed a loose circle around her, slightly bent knees as if each of them were preparing to pounce and she was the helpless prey. But she wasn't. She had been taught by Draco Malfoy. If they knew that, and still wanted to fight her, then they really were stupid.

As soon as they cast the first spell, her wand was forced into action. It came effortlessly to her as she danced across the grass, the heat of each spell warming her sides as the skimmed the fabric of her robes. The spells lighting up the sky were green. Whether they knew who she was or not, they were trying to kill her.

The first one dropped, gasping as they clawed frantically at their neck. In a moment of distraction, she shot down another. This time, they screamed like the first, scratching at their skin until they fell face down on the floor. Dead.

The next two went down easily. She danced between one and as the spell came at her, she ducked. As the man behind her collapsed, she struck.

Now there was only one left. The spells had stopped flying, though the air was still hot and static, pricking her skin under the robes. She couldn't cast until they did.

After a few desperate moments of stillness, the Death Eater flung their arm backwards as if wielding a sword and as soon as the first bead of light left the tip, she stepped casually to the side, the first syllable of a spell already on the tip of her tongue.

She drew a sharp line through the air with her wand. The light that came from her was so bright, her eyes narrowed into slits as she squinted. She couldn't see the Death Eater behind it.

"Granger." A voice so familiar said from behind her and she turned quickly.

Draco.

"Stupefy."

When Hermione woke, she wasn't on the field, nor was she in her room or any place that she initially recognised. She was on her knees, hands in front of her not bound, but stained red.

"The girl wakes," a voice in front of her declared, the sound of hands clasping together echoing through the practically empty room. There was no mistaking the sinister hiss in their words.

Hermione lifted her head to face him. Voldemort sat in a chair that wasn't quite a throne, but definitely not an ordinary chair. A small snake was coiling around his hand, weaving through his fingers as it stared at her, head slowly moving towards as its tongue slithered out of its mouth. The hiss that followed was reminiscent of a rattle, and Hermione felt it in under skin, shaking her bones.

But it wasn't the snake on his hand that made the startling noise, Nagini extended the top half of her body so that her head reached Voldemort's. The snake was sat beside the chair, beady eyes never leaving Hermione. Nagini was taller than her.

Voldemort placed a light hand on Nagini's head when she released another hiss that this time made Hermione shiver. "Now, now, Nagini. The witch will get what she deserves," he said, then turned to Hermione.

"That was a very foolish thing to do, little girl," he hissed, a sinister smile growing on his face. Hermione wasn't sure what she had expected to happen. She just wanted to hurt them.

"You are clever, I will not lie," he averted his gaze to somewhere behind her and she followed.

Draco was stood at the other end of the room, hands in his slacks, slightly closer than the group of glaring Death Eaters behind.

"Perhaps too clever for Draco," he continued and Hermione's stomach dropped. "Has he gone soft?"

Hermione wasn't sure whether or not the question was rhetorical. She and Draco stared at one another, eyes locked. When he dipped his head slowly, she decided it wasn't.

"No," she forced out, her voice steadier than expected even as she struggled to hold Voldemort's gaze.

"Do you lie, Mudblood?"

Hermione shook her head.

Voldemort was quiet for a moment, still smiling and watching. Then, his face turned bitter and slashed his wand through the air, the tip pointing at her.

She dropped completely to the floor, body convulsing. Her mouth was open and her throat burned but the only sound she could hear was the cracking of her own bones. Her chest squeezed, her lungs refusing to work. Her skin burned and when she caught a glimpse of her bare arms, she expected to see flames coursing over it. There wasn't.

She began to taste iron. Blood. It ran through her mouth, laced her tongue and teeth.

"My lord," a voice said from behind her, one she recognised even in her agony. The pain stopped, but her skin still tingled even in the spells absence.

Hermione kept her eyes squeezed shut, limbs still twitching.

"You know what this spell does to ones mind. If she's insane, the collar will cease to work on her."

Voldemort didn't speak for a moment, patting Naginis head.

"The boy is right. Take her to her room."

Hermione felt two firm hands snag her arms up, lifting her roughly off the ground. She attempted to lift her legs to walk but the men's strides were too large to keep up with. She opened her eyes, Draco watched, expression impassive and then he fell into step behind them.

The blood continued to pool in her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue. When they left the room and made it to the corridor in which her room was located, she spat on one of the Death Eaters shoes.

"Bitch," he mumbled as the other yanked open the door and chucked her inside.

Hermione's bones still felt fragile and stung as her knees collided with the hard floor. The tang of blood in her mouth was almost enough to make her gag.

When she looked up, the men were gone and in their place, Draco stood, hands deep in pocket, watching her. Hermione brought her arm to her mouth wiping off the blood still seeping through the cracks in her lips, not taking her eyes off him.

The muscles at Draco's jaw rippled as he watched. Finally, he moved, turning towards the door and pushing it shut.

He didn't bother helping as she struggled to rise to her feet, each bone feeling as frail as twigs and skin still tingling. She had never felt pain like that before.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked when she steadied her feet.  
Draco stared at her for a moment, and then sighed, apparating almost silently from the room.

Hermione released a shuddering breath. The dry blood on her hands had began to crack, following the lines of her palms and deep under her fingernails.

Could she have saved him if she was quicker?

Hermione wasn't even sure whether the healing would have worked, but she wasted what might be her only chance at it. Instead of using Draco's vague instruction to heal the fallen of the Order, she went on a murderous rampage.

Draco appeared back in front of the door, already extending his arm out towards her with a glass of water. The liquid was surprisingly still considered he had just apparated.

As she watched him, his jaw seemed to become more tense, his features hardening and then—

"Fuck, Granger!" Draco ran a hand through his hair, the other rested on his hip. Hermione almost dropped the glass.

"Why did you have to do it? They could send you away."

Hermione set the glass on the table and turned back towards him, brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"  
"They can move you to a different household. Not many will be as patient as I am, Granger. Do you want to go? Move to a different manor?"

Hermione sharply inhaled and began towards the bathroom.

"How many did I kill?" she asked when she reached the sink.

There was a brief silence and then Draco answered, "six." Hermione had to stifle the smile threatening to play on her lips.

The water turned pink as she scrubbed her hands in the sink, desperately scratching at her nails and underneath them. She scrubbed until she couldn't tell what was the stubborn staining of blood and what was just irritated skin.

"He could have killed you for this," Draco said moving towards the bathroom door.

"I'm important."  
"You're more trouble than your worth."  
Hermione spun around to face him. "So kill me."

Neither spoke then, watching each other intently, chest rising and falling quickly and almost in time with each other.

"I gave you vague instructions so that it would feel less like an order. So that maybe you felt like you had more free will. But you took the piss, Granger."  
"How very kind of you," she spat back before she could even stop and think of the response. Her anger was controlled by a dam inside her. But when so much builds up, pushes at the barrier, the dam would burst.

Draco scoffed, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and tugging on the platinum strands of hair near the bottom.

"You aren't the only one who will be punished for this, Granger. Did you ever stop and think about that?"

Truth was, she hadn't. The despair in her stomach began to surface again, guilt forming a knot at the back of her throat.

"No," she replied, "I'm sorry."  
"It's not that I'm worried about. They could move you, Granger"  
"Please, don't let them."  
"I don't have much control over—"  
"I know you do, Draco."  
"And how would you know that, Granger." The playful accent in his voice was enough to slow her heartbeat somewhat.

"The two Death Eaters that tried to take me on the morning of my first fight, they called you sir."  
"That doesn't mean I have control over what Voldemort decides to do with you."  
"But you have a voice. Input."  
"I do."  
"So you'll try keep me here?"  
"I will," he replied and a small smile tugged at Hermione's lips.  
"Thankyou, _Sir_."

Draco raised a brow, a smirk growing on his mouth followed by the small shadow of a dimple. "There are other things you could call me that I'm sure I would enjoy more."

Hermione felt heat suddenly flush into her cheeks and she stifled the urge to turn away.

"I'll try, Granger," Draco said, turning towards the door, "But I will make no promises."

He left before Hermione could reply. She was relieved though, she wasn't quite sure how she planned on responding to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much for 300 hits!


	25. Twenty five

No one came for Hermione the next day. She waited. Hardly slept with anticipation, the knowing that if Draco couldn't be persuasive enough, Voldemort could have her moved to some place a lot less generous than Malfoy Manor. She would be owned by someone else. Someone who would have complete control over her. Make her do whatever they pleased.

She tried not to think so much on the possibility, but no matter how hard she tried, her mind always wandered back to the stale thought.

Topsy had come and gone, they hardly spoke. Hermione didn't eat, though. There was no way she could when her stomach knotted with dread and anxiety. It was becoming more common that she didn't eat, so whenever she did, it was more a shock than if she didn't.

Whenever a new bruise would appear on Topsy's ivory skin, Hermione would at least pick up the sandwich and try to swallow the dry bread. On days when she could hardly even look at the meal, she would send Topsy to fetch her something, and hurry to the bathroom to flush the torn pieces of her lunch down the toilet. 

Topsy never knew different. She would leave with the clean plate, limbs less stiff than the times she left with a full one. Hermione wondered if soon, Topsy would begin to suspect her antics. Would she be forced to tell Draco? Or whoever her 'master' was?

Hermione wasn't sure if Draco had even planned to come today. To tell her if he managed to weave his calculated words far enough into Voldemort's head that she would be allowed to stay. Now that the option was being torn away from her, she wanted nothing more than to remain at Malfoy Manor. Where the doors were now left unlocked and warm meals were provided, not to mention that Draco wouldn't give her instructions unless absolutely necessary, and mostly for her own good.

Assuming Draco would wait until training to give her the news, Hermione undressed, leaving her clothes scattered across the floor, and stepped into the shower.

She wasn't sure what time it was. Dinner had come and gone, barely touched, and the moon was luminous in the sky, bright enough to cast light through her window and render the dim lamp pretty much useless.

Hermione planned on getting lost in herself under the warm and friendly caress of the water. And that's exactly what she did. It was like a hug; cosy and familiar and she tilted her head back, running a light hand through her hair.

The glass fogged quickly, steam thick enough that you felt it in your lungs with an inhale rose from the base of the shower, misting her vision and coating her skin in a thick, soft layer.

Hermione sighed, a soft, feminine sound, and brought the bottom of her hair over one shoulder. She reached down towards the bottles lined in a row. 

Raspberry.

She reached for the bottle, dislodging it from its tidy slot in the low shelf and filling her hand with a generous amount of its pearlescent contents.

Slowly, Hermione brought her hand through the air, trapping her fingers in the strange and running the shampoo through it. It's scent was strong but pleasant. Not overwhelming. It smelled like the one she had used at Hogwarts. The one she had brought from her own home.

When her hair was fluffy and saturated, she dipped it back again, tilting her neck so the water began to tap against the crown of her head. The bubbles tickled as they ran down her back, some getting trapped in the small and others continuing down the path of her legs.

She stayed in the shower for longer than she planned , taking in the warmth. It was like the shower was a veil of some sort. She couldn't see behind the glass, couldn't see what lay outside. Inside it, under the running water, she was alone, in her own world where her thoughts didn't scratch her brain and all thoughts of the collar still slapped against her neck vanished under the touch of the water.

It was the only time the collar turned the slightest bit warm. Usually, it stung her neck in its icy coldness. But the water warmed up the metal just enough that the skin underneath wasn't numb for once. She liked that. It almost seemed more invisible that way, nearly completely blending with her body temperature, and if it wasn't for the weight, she could have possibility forgotten it was there.

Finally, she dragged herself from the warm cubicle and stepped onto the icy floor of the bathroom. It stung her feet but she didn't much realise, busy searching for the towel she wouldn't accept she had forgotten.

Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest in the new cold air and began to tip toe to the door. One foot passed the doorframe, but when she brought her gaze up towards the front of the room, she quickly jumped backwards, gasping.

Draco was stood in front of the door, and even though there was a wall between them, Hermione could sense the amused grin platstered across his face.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he mused from the other room, and Hermione felt her cheeks swarm with heat even as she rolled her eyes.

"You're early," she retorted.  
"I'm late," he answered. "In all honesty, I was expecting a scalding from you again. Though I will gladly settle for this instead."

Hermione could hear the smile in his words.

"Just get me a towel."  
"So bossy," he said but Hermione heard the slow steps of his shoes against the floor and so decided not to reply.

A minute later, Draco threw the towel through the doorframe and she snatched it out of the air before it met the damp floor. She couldn't make herself thank him, in that moment of slight humiliation her manners were lost.

Securing the towel safely under her arms, she left the comfort of the bathroom. Draco was still there, stood in front of the door as if guarding it, and watching her approach. 

"I'm beginning to think you're doing this on purpose," he said after a few moments of peace.  
Hermione frowned. "Why would I do that?" Then she smiled to herself behind the opened wardrobe door. "To try and seduce you into taking this thing off?" she suggested, bringing a hand to the metal clamp around her neck, still warm from the shower that she already missed.

"Would you?" he asked, eyebrow raised.  
"Would it work?"  
"Do you want to try it and see?"

Hermione bit her cheek and decided not to answer that particular question and replace it with another one.

"Is there anything particular I should wear?"  
"Anything is fine. Just something you can move around in."

Hermione decided on a pair of black shorts and sweatshirt. Draco had turned around when she changed and then handed her the knives afterwards.

At first they fought with knives, slashing at each other but never meeting skin. Hermione wasn't sure whether he was purposely holding back or she had gotten good enough to match his skill. But with the way he carried his movements with such ease when she was panting, told her it was definitely not the latter.

After an hour, Draco stepped back, and Hermione frowned.

"I have to teach you hand to hand combat too. When that muggle had you pinned to the floor, you would've been dead had I not killed him first."

She didn't like the feeling that settled inside her chest. Gratitude but also shame. He had to save her all because she was impulsive. She didn't regret it, would do it again if it meant the possibility of saving someone's life. 

"Thankyou." The word had crawled up her throat before she could stop it. It had been since yesterday.  
Draco frowned.  
"For doing that," she finished and his jaw clenched.  
"He would have killed you."  
"Not if I had my knives."  
"But you didn't."  
"No," she said, slightly frustrated.

"Why did you leave me? I couldn't protect you."  
His choice of words made something sting in Hermione's chest.  
"There was a boy. He was dying and I wanted to help."

Draco sighed. "Did you know him?"  
She nodded.  
"Don't do it again, Granger. One of the Death Eaters could have killed you if they saw."  
"They didn't."  
"But they could have."

So pessimistic.

Hermione hadn't realised she spoke those words out loud until he replied.

"Better to fear the worst than to be unprepared. Kept me alive," he said simply.

It was strange how different the Order's mindset was from his. They believed that hope and optimism was the key to winning the war. But Draco had seen things. And he knew that they were so beyond wrong.

He took the knives from Hermione and chucked the six of them on the bed.

"I want you to tackle me."  
Hermione frowned.  
"How?"  
He shrugged. "Any way you like."

She had fought with the boys before. Harry and Ron would teach her the ropes to wrestling and she was rather good at it. But they had young and childish.

Draco was 6'1", lean and she was sure sometimes with how firm he was that underneath the thin layer of skin, he was made completely of stone.

It would practically be like running into a brick wall, or trying to tackle a lamppost.

Worrying for her shoulder, she crouched down slightly.

"Alright," she said, casting one more look as his unfazed expression and darting forward.

Usually, she would aim for the waist, hooking both arms around and nestling her neck against the slight dip between the hip and ribcage.

But Hermione had wildly miscalculated.

She had crouched far too low, and now her arms were around his legs and her ear against his pocket.

She doubted he would've stumbled at all if it weren't for her shocking positioning.

Hermione snatched her a hands away, stumbling backwards with the force at which she did it.

"That was...questionable," he said, brows heavy over his eyes.  
"You're taller than most," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in hopes to contain her wildly beating heart.

"I'm not that tall," he said.  
"More so than Harry and Ron."  
"Mm" he hummed. "I would tell you to try again but somehow I don't think that would a be a good idea."  
"Just show me how, Draco."

He stepped towards her, closing the majority of the scarce space between them, looked down, and then back up to her eyes.

"If I may?"  
She nodded.

So quick that if you blinked you would have missed it , he ducked down and wrapped his arms around her hips, nudging his neck against her waist and forcing her forwards. 

She gasped, stumbling backwards, stomach dipping, heart racing until her back met the soft cushion of her mattress and caught her fall.

She was lied out on the bed, and Draco was on top of her.

"You really are very light," he said and even though his words meant no offence, light was the exact opposite of what she wanted to be. That just meant she was easy to harm, to throw around.

"Yes," she said, staring up at where he leant over her. 

She began to squirm under his weight, attempting to wriggle her way free. He grunted.

"Don't do that," he said, casting a look down to where their hips met and then back up to her.  
"Then let me go."  
The side of Draco's lip turned upwards into a smirk. "No."

Hermione began to squirm again, pressing her hands to his chest and trying to push his body away but it was no use. She began to lift a leg upwards, but as she inched it away from her other one, Draco's leg slipped between the two of hers.

She gasped at the feeling of his thigh pressing down between her and one of his eyebrows jerked upwards as he stared down at her.

"I told you not to do it," he said and she swallowed.

After a heartbeat of silence, he spoke."I think you would be glad to know that Voldemort has allowed you to stay at Malfoy Manor."   
"Really?"  
Draco nodded and relief coursed through her body. She had forgotten about the possibility of moving since he had arrived.   
"Although, it took a lot of convincing. You can't do anything like that again," he said.  
"Do we have to have this conversation now? In this...position?" she asked, glancing down at where their bodies were pressed together.

He smirked, not moving his eyes from hers, and shifted his leg, pressing it down further against her. She sharply inhaled.

"Is it bothering you?" he teased.  
"You're bothering me." Hermione tried to keep her voice steady.  
"Am I?" He pressed his leg down further and Hermione's back arched slightly before she could stop her bodies reaction.

Draco smirked, but when the room filled with silence, his smile slowly turned flat. His mouth was slightly agape as they watched each other.

"Yes," she breathed, and then just as quickly as he had tackled her to the bed, he had climbed off. The loss of contact made her squeeze her legs together and almost wish he hadn't moved. But she had told him he was bothering her, and he had simply listened.

He was standing again now, facing the window. She thought to herself. Maybe with only her hands as a weapon, she was useless, but with a knife she was not. She reached for one of the knives discarded next to her on the bed and slowly brought it to her side.

She rose without a sound, using her weight to an advantage as she crept soundless across the floor to stand behind him. He was tall. But her arm could reach his neck and that was enough.

She wrapped one arm around his shoulder, pressing his back to her chest and then with the other, she brought the knife to his throat.

When he shifted, she pressed the blade in slightly and he stilled.

"You know that when you fight, your opponent won't be staring out a window, Granger."  
"I know. I just wanted to do this," she said, grinning behind him.

As soon as she let the blade go slightly slack against his neck, he pushed backwards against her and she almost toppled over. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed, enough that she dropped the knife but it never met the floor. He caught it with his other hand, using the one wrapped around her wrist to spin her around.

But when he dropped his yielding hand, she tried to escape his hold, lunging toward, and straight into the blade of the knife.

She stopped moving and sucked air through her teeth, pressing a hand to her side. Her palm came away wet, fingers already slick with blood and she turned her head, wide eyed, to look at Draco behind her.

"Fuck," he muttered, lifting her up and setting her down on the window sill. Hermione's sweatshirt was already soaked in her own blood, and Draco didn't ask when he pulled the fabric up to her chest to see the wound.

There was a ripe, bloody, slash stretching the length between her ribs and centre of her stomach. His jaw tensed as he pulled out his wand and hovered it over her.

She blinked slowly as she watched, the stinging pain had began to fade, but she didn't think he had started healing out. She could tell the cut was deep from the hard set of his jaw.

Finally, he began to mutter an incarnation she wasn't familiar with and trace the wound with the tip of his wand. Hermione only felt minor discomfort as the skin began to stretch back together, joining and closing the wound starting at her ribs and landing at her stomach. The skin left was silver.

He had scarred her.

"Granger," he started.  
"It's okay, Draco."   
He sighed and turned his eyes to watch her.  
"How did you learn to fight?" Hermione asked.  
"My father mostly. Sometimes my aunt."  
"Mm," she hummed in acknowledgement, bringing a hand down to her stomach and tracing the line of newly made silver.

When she reached the pointed end, she tugged down her jumper. Draco was already turned away, gazing out the window at the lamp lit grounds and then down at the windowsill to the pile of parchment beside her.

He picked the top one up, turning it over. It was a sketch of the manor grounds, as were most of them, one with the fence drawn in.

"You included the gates," he said turning to her and she shrugged.  
"They're there, aren't they?"

He set down the drawing beside the stack and reached for another. This time, his eyebrow jerked upwards.

"I like this one," Draco said, and as soon as she glanced at the piece of paper, a muddle of swears came to her mind.

It was a sketch of him. A cigarette dangling between his mouth as he sat on the same bench he always did.

He picked up another from the pile before she could stop him and to her dismay, his face was sketched onto the parchment. An amused smile grew on his lips.

This time, the cigarette was between his fingers, legs wide and forearms rested against his knees as he looked straight ahead.

"I didn't know you were such an admirer," he mused, turning to her now.

"I'm not," she said reaching for the piece of parchment. He tugged it away, picking up another from the pile with his other hand. It, too, was a sketch of him.

"Your drawings say otherwise, Granger."

Hermione aimed to shove his shoulder but he moved, and she was leaning on thin air, falling.

"Shit," Draco mumbled, stepping in front of her so she had something to lean against. She pressed her hands into his shoulder, fingertips wrapping over the curve and thumb slowly and subconsciously smoothing his collarbone through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Hermione opened her eyes, only to find Draco's staring right back at her. They were inches apart. So close that every exhale from Draco slipped into her mouth and rolled over her tongue like an invite.

"So clumsy," he muttered, eyes flicking down to where her lips were parted.  
"I'm not."  
"And sensitive," he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips now even in the circumstances.

She should have moved away by now, Draco should have pushed her off. But neither of them did anything of the sort.

Draco's smirk was fading now as his eyes lingered longer on her mouth. Each exhale from him sank into her tongue, mint, but not harsh. It was addicting. She wanted more. Her heart was beating wildly, the rise and fall of her chest almost matching the pace.

He seemed to lean closer, tilting his head slightly so it fit perfectly in hers. He glanced up to her eyes once more.

"If you don't want me to kiss you, you should say now."

Did she? She wasn't sure, but the words left her mouth anyway.

"Draco."

"Mm," he hummed.

"Kiss me."

He wasted no time. Draco brought his face the last final inches, smashing his mouth on hers. Her body coursed with heat, each part of her skin suddenly became sensitive and so when Draco slid a hand up her arm and to the back of her neck, she shivered, feeling as though he was touching every part of her at once.

She felt his smile against her lips. He tasted of mint and it was overwhelming. Something she knew she could easily get addicted to. Something knew she would begin to crave in its absence.

He pressed his mouth harder onto hers, attacking her bottom lip with the type of desperation she had never seen from him before. The type that made something below her navel burn with desire and need.

Hermione ran a hand along his shoulder, palm flat so that she could feel all of him, and then up to his neck to where soft tufts of his hair tickled the skin.

She tugged at them, which caused a rumbling sound to escape Draco's lips, vibrating through her body as it passed through and into her mouth. His hands found their way to her thighs, squeezing and then pulling her forwards.

She gasped as their bodies collided. The hardest parts of him met the softest parts of her. Draco pressed in further, and Hermione felt his arousal between her legs. He swallowed her gasp in a kiss before pulling back. She didn't have time to mourn the loss of contact when he ducked and closed his mouth over the warm skin of her neck.

Hermione's hips lifted, pushing against his. He moaned, the noise rumbling across her skin as he sucked. She was on fire. 

An aching pulse below her navel was clouding her thoughts. She wanted him. More than she's wanted anything in her entire life before, it seemed. She began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. He trailed kisses down her jaw as she unbuttoned the only fabric between them, painfully slow. When she pushed the thin fabric over and off his shoulders, he pulled away from her searing skin to tug her jumper over her head.

The cold air was inviting against her burning flesh, and she welcomed the chill of the window against her back. When she emerged from under the fabric which Draco dropped to the floor, he paused, eyes roaming her whole body.

She wanted to bring her arms to her chest, shield her skin that had only ever been seen by one other person before, but his own body distracted her. She had seen it before, but his stomach was even more beautifully crafted than she remembered.

The lines that travelled below his navel were so sharp they looked as though they had been tailored by the gods themselves. She wanted nothing more than to run her fingers along all the ridges of his stomach and torso. Trace each line so that it was carved into her memory.

Hermione brought her eyes back to his. He hadn't stop studying her just like she hadn't him.

"Fuck, Granger," he said in a low, raspy voice, still panting slightly, and then he smashed his mouth against hers once again. His hands gripped her waist, pressing where she needed him so badly , against his trousers.

He pulled her even closer than she thought possible, and then picked her up. Her legs were quick to wrap around his hips, rocking her own against them as he moved them both to the bed.

The mattress was soft and inviting against her back as he lay her down, climbing on top of her. Missing the feeling of him against her, she brought her legs around his back, tugging him closer and lifting herself up.

Their lips met again, rough and desperate. It was hard to know who wanted the other more. 

"Tell me to stop," he said in a low voice against her mouth. Hermione didn't answer. She wanted him. Needed him. Burned for him. He pressed further into her and the bundle of nerves between her legs screamed for more, causing her to arch her back and moan into his panting mouth.

He swallowed her pleasure and dragged his teeth across her bottom lip.

"Granger," he panted, " tell me to stop."  
"Don't stop," she breathed as he dragged his tongue to her jaw and began to suck. Draco hummed against her skin as she dragged her nails down his back, pressing down when she reached the end .

Then, a sound of distaste and not the slightest bit pleasure, left his mouth and she stilled. Draco pulled away and rolled off her. In that moment, concern seemed to overcome the longing between her legs, and she propped herself up on her elbows, gazing at where he now sat beside her.

Draco had his forearm raised, watching it with an impassive expression. The mark swirled, dancing across his skin, corrupting the clear ivy.

"I have to go," he said in a voice so different to the one she had heard before. The one that had moaned into her mouth and cursed upon seeing her skin. He pulled his shirt on, buttoning it up much quicker than she had managed to do the opposite.

He glanced at her once more before he left. Jaw clenched and features indecipherable as he looked at where she lay topless on the bed. Where seconds before, he was on top of her, kissing her. 

Then he left. He simply left.


	26. Twenty six

The bed had felt cold that night. Hermione couldn't sleep. And for once, it wasn't the images of her dying friends that kept her awake, it was what she had just done.

What possessed her to say such a thing? He gave her an option. One she should have declined. But she hadn't. Hermione had asked, no ordered Draco to kiss her. And he had.

She doubted they would have stopped had he been summoned. Part of her was thankful for the interruption, she wasn't sure if she would have stopped. 

She needed an explanation, something to ease her mind. But it was the middle of the next day now, and he hadn't come to see her, nor did she expect him to anytime soon.

Did he regret it? If he did then perhaps he would request she to be transferred to a different manor, even after the 'severe' convincing it had taken to keep her. Keep her.

The thought made her chest feel hollow.

But what made her whole body sting, was the fact that she didn't regret it. She would never leave Malfoy Manor. Never see her friends again in a scenario where she wasn't trying to kill them. And Draco was the only person she had left. A little bit of home. Even if he was extensively insufferable in Hogwarts, and now. He was still familiar, and her body craved familiarity more than anything. Except maybe the ache that still lingered somewhere between her legs. The ache that had sprouted when he climbed off her and left with nothing but a curse and a excusing to follow her into her hassled sleep.

Hermione paced across the room, arms crossed over her chest and eyes focussed forward.

The feeling of Draco's mouth against hers still stirred something inside of her stomach whenever her mind wandered to it. The memory of his body pressed against hers so vivid that if she focussed hard enough, it was almost as though he was with her again, pressing the space between her legs against him.

Hermione brought an absent hand to her neck, tilting her head as her light fingers grazed the skin.

The feeling was so new to her. Want. Need. And she wasn't sure how to deal with any of it. Especially not knowing that if he was to ask to kiss her again, her response wouldn't change. She would welcome the kiss like an old friend. Thrive in Draco's desperation mixed with hers.

Just as Hermione began to remind herself of the experience, the door to her room fell open, and her head darted on instinct towards it. But what she was met with was enough to drain her mind of everything.

Hermione paled, turning nearly as white as Draco's ivy skin as she took a step back, gaze remaining on the door.

Stood in the doorframe, was Lucius, a sinister smile stretched on his worn and withered face as he ordered the door shut behind him simply with the wave of his hand.

"I've been wanting to see you, miss Granger," he said, and her knees suddenly became weak, threatening to collapse with her weight no matter how light she was.

"But my son has a habit of hovering over the entrance to this wing. Makes it quite hard to reach you."  
So where was Draco now?

As if he had plucked the thought from her mind, Lucius spoke again. "It seems to be my lucky day, though, because Draco is no where to be seen."

He laughed then, a deep low rumble with not the slightest bit of joy. Lucius stepped forward and Hermione's heart dropped.

"You see, miss Granger, what you did...it wasn't very appreciated. Certainly not by me." He reached the middle of the room.

"Some of those you killed, I knew quite well. And I don't think the Lords punishment was quite fitting enough."

The top of his wand emerged from where he held it behind his cloak. Her eyes flickered to it for a brief second, and then they darted back up to his eyes, worried that if she was to look away for too long, he would vanish and appear behind her.

He was a few steps away from her now, looking down with an expression she knew would've somewhat matched hers. Accept hers was laced with fear and his, excitement.

Hermione was backing away, instinct overtook. Lucius hadn't stopped approaching, stalking across the room with a wicked smile that made her fear for her life.

"You should know that your little outburst was nothing but a mere inconvenience. Did you expect to kill every single person there and escape?"

Suddenly, Hermione felt extremely stupid. She, herself, wasn't sure of her plan or if she even had one.

"No," she answered. "I just thought they would look far better dead."

The laugh that left him made Hermione shiver. It wasn't one bit light or humorous. The sound shook the room, it dripped with venom. 

"I'm glad you said that."

Before Hermione could even frown, he cut through the air with his wand, and a burning sting began to form somewhere under her shirt. She brought a hand to her stomach. It came away wet and red. He was cutting her, deep. 

He struck again, this time the sensation fanned out across the top of her thigh, more painful than the first. The witch clenched her jaw. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a scream.

His hand moved quickly, almost a blur as he changed directions. More cuts formed on her legs and they began to tremble more. 

"Remember, Mudblood, you deserve this."

Lucius stepped closer, drawing another sharp line through the air, and this time, the pain flared across her face. The metallic taste of blood dribbled into her mouth, running from the cut ,somewhere near her cheekbone, over her lips that were contorted in an attempt to keep the sounds inside her at bay.

She stumbled back.

When her back reached the wall, she was forced to still against the window. He came still, prowling.

"Tell me," he said "why is my son so protecting of you?"  
Hermione frowned, swallowing her curses and screams. "He's not."  
"And yet I had to wait a whole day until your room was left unguarded."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but the words left her. She didn't know how to answer, wouldn't know how to even if the person asking was someone else. She hadn't been aware of his supposed antics.

"I didn't know he did," she choked out when he stepped closer, not even a few feet away from her. He was tall, but she didn't think he was taller than Draco.

"Are you lying to me, Mudblood?" Lucius brought his wand to her chin, angling it so her head was forced upwards and gaze to meet his. Hermione shook her head. The cuts across her body still screamed at her. 

"I didn't know," she said again and Lucius' eyes narrowed.  
"Should we check?" He moved his wand so the tip pressed into her temple. "Just in case you forgot."

The dread that filled her body was almost enough to make her fall. Her legs began to tremble. She pressed herself further against the window sill.

He was threatening to search her memories. 

"Don't," she forced out, voice a raspy whisper.  
Lucius pressed his wand further into her temple and Hermione turned her head enough to see the man that had just appeared at the front of the Manor. She immediately locked eyes with Draco.

He watched her for a second, features impassive, and then after a few seconds his jaw hardened and he disappeared in a mess of black smoke and swirls.

He had just left. And Lucius' wand was digging deeper into her head.

"Father," a voice from the end of the room spoke. She didn't have to turn to see who the deep tone belonged to, but she looked nonetheless. Draco was stood in front of the door, the fading black swirls turning grey from his apparition as they disappeared.

He had apparated silently. She hadn't even heard him come. And from the sour expression on Lucius' face, neither had he. 

"Draco," Lucius finally answered, drawing out the end of the name.

"What have you done to the girl?" Draco asked, and she watched his eyes dip to her leg, then arm, then face.

Lucius had removed his wand from her temple and was now also assessing the damage in a similar manor. "Nothing she didn't deserve."

"Would our Lord be happy about this?" he asked when Lucius turned back to face him. "After all, she is important."

"She will heal," he said in dismissal, "unlike the Death Eaters she murdered."

Hermione didn't feel an ounce of regret. Though she suspected it was more the fact that she had disobeyed that agitated Lucius, not who she killed. It wasn't difficult to know that Lucius was a selfish man, only caring for himself.

"Yes, I suppose."

Hermione pulled the tender skin of her cheek between her teeth. Would he allow Lucius to carry on?

"But you have harmed her enough."  
"Draco," Lucius sighed "do not forget whose house this is."

The muscles near Draco's jaw dipped and rippled.  
"This may be your manor," he started "but Granger is mine."

Draco's tone was steady and his voice was low. They watched each other for some moments, the air vibrated with either unsaid words or the magic threatening to spill from them.

Hermione's heartbeat was the only noise, slamming in her ears. She only hoped the sound was limited to only her ears and no one else's.

"Yes," Lucius said slowly, starting to walk towards Draco and the door. 

The pairs eyes stayed locked, and for a moment, Hermione wondered if Lucius would strike when they reached each other. But he kept his wand lowered, and passed his son with nothing but a glare.

When the door shut behind the man, Draco turned back to Hermione, who suddenly felt weak.

She gripped the window sill behind her as soon as the click of the door sounded. Dark spots mottled her vision, she could feel the blood leave her body through the clean cuts, cascading down her leg and staining her clothes with each passing minute.

Draco came to her side quicker than the time it took for her to release a trembling breath.

"Where did he hurt you?" he asked wrapping an arm around her waist to pull the side of her body against his.

Hermione blinked rapidly but the dots didn't fade.

"Granger."  
"Just my leg and stomach," she spoke in practically a whisper. It took her a second to remover the last cut, grown use to the metallic taste settled in her mouth. Even though it was obvious, she spoke again. "And my face."

Hermione's legs trembled, and then gave out completely. She didn't fall though, Draco gripped her tighter.

"Shit," he mumbled, lowering her and himself down to the floor. He brought her in front of him, pressing his back against the wall and settling her between his legs.

His chest rose behind her, and she stared up at him as he brought his wand from his trouser pocket, moving the tip to her stomach first.

The wound began to stitch itself back together, it stung slightly, but not as much as it had when Lucius had made the cut. She winced and Draco held her tighter.

"Sorry."

When Hermione looked back down, her stomach was smooth, nothing but blood to prove the cut was ever there.

"Can I?" he asked, hand hovered over the button of her jeans. Hermione nodded, and he undid her jeans with his free hand.

When the button was free, he he hooked his thumbs underneath the top, causing her to squirm slightly at the contact.

"Your hands are cold," she said and a low rumble vibrated her back as he laughed slightly.

He lifted his hips of the floor, bringing her up with them and tugged down the jeans so they rested at her knees.

Hermione followed the fabric as it slowly revealed her skin and underwear. She wondered if her cheeks were turning pink, or if she was too pale for that. 

Draco didn't seem to mind, quickly bringing his wand over the deep slashes across the top of her thigh and mending it. It stung less, and when the wound completely closed, he brought his hand to her chin and delicately tilted her head up to him.

Hermione watched him, and he watched back.

He brushed a thumb over her cheek, just below where she had been cut. When his eyes left hers and assessed the slash, his jaw tensed.

Draco brought his wand to her face, slowly tracing the line and it began to close.

Hermione watched him as he healed her, studying ever single part of his face, focussing on the slow rhythm of his rising chest against her back, and the the way his free thumb still smoothed her skin below the wound.

His expression was fixed in a permanent frown as he finished healing her.

"What did he say to you?" he asked.  
Hermione shrugged. "That I deserve it."  
Draco didn't answer. She felt herself sinking further back into his chest, and his arm secured around her waist tightened.

"How do you feel?" Draco asked after a heartbeat of silence.  
"Tired." From the blood loss or restlessness she wasn't sure.  
"You should sleep." Draco shifted her in his lap, looping an arm under her legs and setting her in the bed.

Hermione attempted to tug the jeans off her legs. They were still stained red.

"Draco," she said, gazing at her legs "I'm covered in blood."

For the first time, Draco let his eyes drop and linger on her skin. Her stomach and leg was cracked with dry blood.

"Can you stand?" he asked and she set her feet down on the floor. As soon as her sole met the marble, her limbs began to shake. Hermione gazed up at him again through her eyelashes.

"I have a bath in my room. If you want to use it I can take you there." 

There was no way Hermione could stand in a shower, or stand for longer than a minute at that.

"Okay."

As soon as she answered, Draco slid his arms out of his cloak.

He wrapped the grossly oversized cloak around her exposed skin and she sunk into the fabric. It swallowed her frail frame, and then he scooped her up into his arms.

The walk from her room to his was at least five minutes, and they passed no one on the journey there.

When they reached the door, Draco kicked it open, Hermione still in his arms, and placed her on the bed.

The room was larger than hers, the mattress softer and sheets silkier. He had a desk, pieces of parchment were scattered across the surface, filled with ink scribbles.

"How long do you think you can stand for?" he asked, standing in front of where she sat on his bed.   
Hermione brought her wandering gaze back to his before pressing the soles of her feet against the marble again. They shook still, but not enough that she would immediately fall.

"A few minutes, maybe."  
Draco seemed to consider then, stood watching her with his hands hidden deep within his pockets. His cloak was still wrapped around her, hanging from her shoulders. 

"So you can get in yourself?"

Even though Hermione wasn't sure, she answered with a nod, because the way Draco phrased the question, led her to believe that was how he wanted her to answer.

"Alright. I'll go run it." He left then without a second glance at her, heading towards his bathroom and flicking on the light.

Even from another room she could see the difference in size, and through the door, the bath took up most of the floor space. And yet there was still plenty free.

He got on one knee, kneeling over the bath and turning the tap on. Hermione watched through the gap in the door as he held a hand under the running water, adjusting the temperature accordingly, and then allowing it to fill the bath.

He turned off the tap when the water nearly flowed over the brim, and then stood back up, turning to a pile of towels and bringing one out to where Hermione still sat on the bed.

"Take as long as you want," he said, handing her the towel and then a pile of clothes he had taken from a set of drawers in the corner of his room.

"Thankyou," Hermione replied, keeping the cloak wrapped around her and then using her free hand to retrieve the fabric.

Draco headed over to his desk, taking a seat and already picking up a pen as Hermione reached the bathroom door.

Her hand hesitated over the light, fingers itching to switch it off. She glanced back inside the bathroom, searching for a light source, and when she found a window, she flicked the switch.

From her peripherals, Hermione could see Draco turn his head slightly towards her, acknowledging the action but not speaking on it.

Hermione stepped in, setting down the towel and clothes on the floor and closing the door behind her. She wondered if she should lock it, but after a few moments of debate, she decided not to.

The whole bathroom was black. Reflective, almost enough so that she could nearly see herself in every surface there. The bath was filled to the top, and she began to undress immediately. It had been so long since she had been in one.

Her legs ached still, shook as she tried to undress as quickly as she could. And then when all of her clothes were discarded in the corner of the room, she stepped into the bath, lowering herself slowly into the steaming water. She sucked air through her teeth as her legs completely disappeared beneath the water. There were a few smaller cuts Draco hadn't healed.

The stinging eased quickly and she sunk further into the bliss, allowing her eyes to flutter shut when her body settled comfortably on the bottom. Hermione held her arms on the sides, hands dangling over.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of her, and Hermione's eyes opened. She was in Draco's bathroom. In his bath.

Exhaling, she allowed her gaze to travel the length of the room, head turning as she followed the dark walls. She didn't linger on the mirror that hung above the sink, skipped across it as soon it came into her vision. It had been a while since she had seen her face, and she didn't plan to look now.

There was a shower almost exactly opposite of the mirror, a large space on the far wall, a glass pane similar to the one that resides in her bathroom, covered the front.

Everywhere she looked, the walls, the floors, every surface reflected her shape, not enough that she turned away, though. The lines were a smudge against the black, hardly clear enough to even tell that the shape mirrored back to her was a face and a body.

By the time Hermione had thoroughly examined the room, the water she bathed in had turned a muddy, deep red. Her skin was still stained, and so she brought a hand to it and began to rub. The blood came off easily and without hassle, turning the water a more prominent shade.

The ends of her hair were submerged in the water, passing over the centre of her breasts and slightly further in her fail to cut it. She wasn't sure if she would cut it again, or allow it to grow.

Her hair had once been so long, that she had to worry about sitting on it after a shower. When it was dry, though, the strands bunched into curls and waves, falling just short of her hips. It had always been long. Then she had cut it to her shoulders. The result of built up frustration. Part of her didn't regret it. She didn't want to associate this version of herself with the one back at Hogwarts. And changing her appearance was a way of doing so.

Hermione lifted her mid length hair out of the tinged water and pushed it behind her shoulders. It stuck to her back.

After at least half an hour, Hermione rose from the cold water, and stepped over the sides of the bath. She wasn't sure whether the fact that her legs still shook slightly, or the damp floor was the reason for her almost slipping over.

Reaching down, Hermione pulled the plug, watching for a few seconds to make sure the water began draining, and then picked up the towel that Draco had given her and began to dry herself off.

The towel was black, gratefully so, and didn't show any traces of red as she smoothed it across her body. When she was satisfied enough that her skin was dry, she folded the towel and placed it on the side of the bath.

Hermione hadn't looked at the clothes Draco had given her, but they were his. Hermione held them up in front of her, examining the clothes that she was surprised he owned. The material was soft and thick, dark green along with the sweater. It looked like something you would find in her wardrobe in her bedroom. In her muggle bedroom. 

She pulled the clothes on. They fit her oversized, joggers bunching at the ankles and sweatshirt passing her hands so that they weren't visible underneath the sleeves.

The tips of her hair was dry now, slightly frazzled, but dry. Hermione retrieved the towel from the side of the drained bath, and headed towards the door. When she pushed it open, Draco was still sat in desk, pen held to his face where the end rested between his teeth.

When Hermione closed the door behind her, he spoke, keeping his eyes on the desk. "Took your time." He turned to her then, and immediately, his jaw clenched as his eyes fell to study the clothes, his clothes, hanging loosely on her otherwise bare skin.

"Thanks for the clothes," she said quickly, the mannerism tasting weird in her mouth.  
"Mhm," he hummed, gaze still focused on her body.

"What my father did won't happen again, Granger," he said finally, bringing his gaze to hers. The words did nothing to soothe her. . She wanted to believe him. But as long as Lucius lived in this manor, he would always find a way in. 

She nodded nonetheless.

After a moment, she went to set the towel down on the bed, unaware of the mirror leant against the wall that she missed on her way in.

She sharply inhaled, about to rip her eyes away from the reflection when she saw something, something that kept her eyes forward. There was a line of silver, stretching from the bridge of her nose, to the lobe of her ear. Hermione brought a hand towards it. The skin was slightly raised, purple in some areas and when she tilted her head, the silver shone in the new light.

The witch turned to Draco, who was watching her.

"You didn't tell me," she started, voice low. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"It didn't seem important," he said, pen twisting between his fingers.  
"It is."  
"It's just a scar, Granger."

He was right, but it was a scar from him. From Lucius, and she knew he would be delighted to know he had left a mark on her. 

Hermione watched Draco sit forward in his chair, a frown forming on his face. "Granger, it's fine."

"Can I go back now?" she asked, forcing herself away from the mirror and the disgust twisting in her throat not only from seeing the scar, but from seeing her reflection in general. 

"You can do what you want. I won't ever stop you."

But she couldn't do what she wanted. She wanted to leave, to be normal, to be able to look at herself without feeling sick, to not be held captive and forced to kill. But worse of all, she wanted him.

Hermione forced her eyes away from his and towards the door. She sighed. "I don't know the way back."

"I'll take you," he said, placing the pen behind his ear and rising from his seat. He walked past her and towards the door, tugging it open and waiting for her to pass through before he fell into step a few feet behind her.


End file.
